Primroses

When spring returning decks the grown In glittering array, And birds elated chaunt their loves while mounted on the spray: Then to the field, with eager haste To cull the flow'rs I hie, And, with my basket to my waist, I trudge along and cry, Two bunches a penny Primroses Two bunches a penny.

And oft' as thro' the streets I walk, In hopes to sell my ware, The powder'd beaus will deign to talk, And try me to ensnare; But true to love, my thoughts are plac'd And from such offers fly, So, with my basket to my waist, I trudge along and cry, Two bunches a penny Primroses, Two bunches a penny.

What tho' no plumes adorn my head, Nor satrins train behind, I still have charms to please my Ned; And he hits well my mind: And soon to church with him I'll haste, The gordian knot to tie, No more with basket to my waist Thro' Lanes or Streets I'll cry, Two bunches a penny Primroses, Two bunches a penny.