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The lasses of Pont, to decorate don't Soar yet in the sphere of extremes ;
The lasses of Erring, on fashions conferring, The decent most dext'rous deem.
The lasses of Tyne,w\\o peerless shine,
Are mirrors of modesty too ; The lasses of Coquet, put all in their pocket ;
Go all to the Coquet and woo.
So take my advice, in fishing so nice, These provident paragons view ;
So splendid and pretty, so worthy and witty, You'll never have reason to rue.
Let us love to be merry and wise.
To angle and sport with a friend ;
To love to assist in a song,
And mirth with our wandering to blend ;
To sing with the merry,
To sport with sad,
And to whip off a bumper,
To make the heart glad.