Go, lovely fragrant blossom, go

Go, lovely fragrant blossom, go, And grace my Chloe's breast, Tell her its beauties fairer show, When with thy charms it's drest.

But near her face do not presume To lift thy od'rous head, Her breath's more sweet than thy perfume, Her lips more lovely red.

But tell her plainly, tell the maid, Tho' now she boasts her prime, That all her charms like thine will fade, And feel th' effects of time.