Song. Humphry Gubbin's Courtship

A Courting I went to my love, Who is sweeter than roses in May; And when I came to her by Jove, The devil a word could I say. I walk'd with her into the garden, There fully intending to woo her! But may I ne'er be worth a farthing, If of love I said any thing to her. I clasp'd her hand close to my breast, While my heart was as light as a feather; Yet nothing I said, I protest, But—Madam 'tis very fine weather. To an arbour I did her attend, She ask'd me to come and sit by her; I crept to the furthermost end, For I was afraid to come nigh her. I ask'd her which way was the wind, For I thought in some talk we must enter; Why, sir, (she answer'd, and grinn'd) Have you just sent your wits for a venture? Then I follow'd her into the house, There I vow'd I my passion would try; But there I was still as a mouse: Oh! what a dull booby was I!