Lo! in my shirt, on you these eyes I fix, Admiring much the quaintness of your tricks; Your friskings, crawlings, squalls, I much approve: Your spittings, pawings, high-rais'd rumps, How sweetly roll your gooseb'rry eyes, And, loving, scratch each other black and blue! No boys, in wantonness, now bang your backs; No curs, nor fiercer mastiffs, tear your flax, [you. But all the moon-light world seems made for Singers of Israel! You no parsons want To tie the matrimonial cord; You call the matrimonial service cant Like our first parents, take each other's word: To jump not even o'er two sticks. You want no furniture, alas! Spit, spoon, dish, frying-pan, or ladle; No iron, pewter, copper, tin, or brass; Nor nurses, wet or dry, nor cradle, Which custom, for our Christian babes, enjoins, To rock the staring offspring of your loins. Nor of the lawyers you have need, Ye males, before you seek your bed, To settle pin-money on Madam: No fears of cuckoldom,-Heav'n bless ye!Are ever harbour'd to distress ye, Tormenting people since the days of Adam. No schools you want for fine behaving, No powdering, painting, washing, shaving, No night-caps snug, no trouble in undressing, Before you seek your strawy nest, Pleas'd in each other's arms to rest, To feast on love, Heav'n's greatest blessing. Good Gods! Ye sweet love-chanting rams! How nimble are you with your hams To mount a house, to scale a chimney-top; Who, sweet obliging female, far from coy, And scorning 'midst the ashes more to mope, Dear mousing tribe, my limbs are waxing cold→ Singers of Israel sweet, adieu, adieu! I do suppose you need not now be told, How much I wish that I was one of you. WHY will my wanton maid inquire, How many kisses I desire? Go, count the conscious stars, that see How fond I nightly steal to thee; Count every beaming glare, that flies Go, count the loves, that ambush'd dwell Or, fluttering, play on frolic wings Through every tress that drops in rings: That decks thy face, thy form, thy mind; RETIR'D from tumult and the public care, While modest NELSON breathes his MERTON air, And trip up FRIENDSHIP's heels to gain a place. |