THE American Mock-Bird, OR SONGSTER's DELIGHT, SONG CCLXIII

The Sun was sleeping in the Main, Bright Cynthia silver'd all the Plain; When Collin turn'd his Team to rest, And sought the Lass he lov'd the best: As tow'rd her Cott he jogg'd along, Her Name was frequent in his Song; But when his Errand Delly knew, She vow'd She'd something else to do.

He swore he did esteem her more Than any Maid he'd seen before; In tender Sighs protesting he Wou'd constant as the Turtle be; Talk'd much of Death, should she refuse, And us'd such Arts as Lovers use; 'Tis fine, says Doll, if 'tis but true; But now—I've something else to do.

Her Pride then Collin thus address'd; Forgive me, Doll, I did but jest; To her that's kind I'll constant prove, But trust me, I'll ne'er die for Love: Tho' first she did his Courtship scorn; Now Doll began to court in turn; Dear Collin, I was jesting too, Step in—I've nothing else to do.