DIBDIN's SELECTED SONGS, BALLAD

I Thought we were fiddle and bow, So well we in concert kept time, But, to strike up a part base and low, Without either reason or rhime: What a natural was I so soon With pleasure to quaver away! For I'm humm'd, I think, now to some tune, She has left me the piper to pay.

I plainly perceive she's in glee, And thinks I shall be such a flat As to shake, but she's in a wrong key, For she never shall catch me at that. Whoe'er to the crotches of love Lets his heart dance a jig in his breast, 'Twill a bar to his happiness prove, And shall surely deprive him of rest.