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Come all ye pretty maidens wherever ye be,
Don't ſettle your love on a ſycamore tree,
The leaf it will wither, and the root it will die,
And if I'm forſaken, I know not for why.
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THE PATRIOT FAIR.
WHEN young and artleſs as the lamb,
Which plays about its fondling dam,
Briſk, buxom, pert, and ſilly;
I ſlighted all the manly ſwains,
And put my virgin heart in chains,
For ſmiling ſmooth fac'd Willy.
But when experience came with years,
Which rais'd my hopes and quell'd my fears,
My heart was blythe and bonny,
I turn'd off every beardleſs youth,
So gave my word, and fix'd my truth
On honeſt ſturdy Johnny.
Next at the wake I ſaw the 'Squire,
For love I felt a new deſire,
Fond to outſhine my mammy,
I ſigh'd for fringes, frogs, and beaux,
For pig-tail wigs, and powder'd clothes,
And ſilken maſter Sammy.
For riches next I ſet a flame,
Old Gripus to my cottage came,
And held an amorous parley.
For muſic next I chanc'd to born,
And fondly liſten'd in my turn,
To warbling quivering Charley.
So now alike the fools and wits,
Fops, fidlers, foreigners and cits,
All ſtruck me by rotation,
