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.
|