(6)
When I am enclos'd in the arms of my lover,
He yields me much pleasure, I think I am blest;
He oftentimes kisses me over and over,
He oftentimes ſqueezes me unto his breast!
He ſays that his love to me is encreasing,
Those raptures of pleasure ſhall never decay,
I think it's but folly my time to be wasting,
And oh! to be marry'd if this be the way.
He call'd me his jewel, his joy, and his treasure,
Without me there's nothing can yield him delight;
He'll do his endeavour to keep me quite easy,
And confort me always by day and by night:
Therefore I do think there is nothing a-wanting,
Could I but enjoy that happy day;
And now I think it is time to be granting,
And oh! to be marry'd if this be the way.
O foolish young girl, you talk to your knowledge,
But little you know the danger you run;
Before you're marry'd you think you have all things,
And then you want ev'ry thing else but a man:
Your husband will chide you, and ſay you are lazy,
And ſwear that the tea takes the money away:
Perhaps the next morning the Landlord will crave you,
You ne'er wou'd a marry'd had you known the way.
And next, to your comfort, your apron's a-riſing,
And you must provide for the crying out;
Blankets, and pins, and tapes must be wanting,
Your clothes must be broken to make baby-clouts;
