Sung in the Deserter

Some how my spindle I mislaid, And lost it underneath the grass, Damon advancing, bow'd his head, And said, What seek you, pretty lass? A little love, but urg'd with care, Oft leads a heart, and leads it far.

'Twas passing by yon spreading oak That I my spindle lost just now. His knife then kindly Damon took, And from the tree he cut a bough: A little love, &c.

Thus did the youth his time employ, While me he tenderly beheld; He talk'd of love, I leap'd for joy, For ah! my heart did fondly yield. A little love, &c.