The American Songster, Song

As t'other day milking I sat in the vale, Young Damon came up to address his soft tale, So sudden, I started, and gave him a frown, For he frighted my cow, and my milk was kick'd down.

Lord bless me! says I, what a-deuce can you mean, To come thus upon me, unthought of, unseen! I ne'er will approve of the love you pretend, For, as mischief began, perhaps mischief may end.

I little thought now he'd his passion advance, But pretty excuses made up the mischance: He begg'd a kind kiss, which I gave him, I vow, And I laid my own self, all the fault on the cow.

How many ways love can the bosom invade! His bait prov'd too strong, alas! for a maid: He hinted that wedlock was what he'd be at, But I thought it was best to say nothing of that.

I flutter all over whene'er he comes nigh, For if he should press, I should surely comply; And ne'er shall be angry, my heart itself tells, Tho' he flings down my milk, or does any thing else.