As I went rambling for pleasure one day,
In the oaks of sweet Dunkirk I happened to stray;
In that shady bower I clumb up a tree,
With pleasures of passion so likely to see.
And slowly approaching a man and a maid,
I sat slill and listened to hear what they said.
He said "My dearest jewel, to meet you once more,
You find me so stiff that my bolix is sore.
"To try the thing over, for now you are here;
There's none in this arbor that you need to fear."
But I couldn't help shouting, their folly to see,
And my God! how they scattered from under my tree.