The Lark Had Proclaim'd the New Day

The lark had proclaim'd the new day, The sun was like gold in the east; From milking I trip'd on my way, When Damon pursued me in haste: Pastora, says he, pray be kind, And grant me a heart-cheering smile, For you are the girl to my mind, And I'll lift your pail over the stile.

His offer was not much amiss, Yet I frowned as virgins will do; But when he attempted a kiss, I cry'd, Damon, what is it you do; He gave me a civil salute, And banish'd my frowns for a smile; You'll guess, without any dispute, That he lifted me over the stile.

Of wedlock he talk'd, and all that, And vow'd he would make me his wife; I own I was fond of his chat, And ne'er was so pleas'd in my life: His passion I found was sincere, And he did not mean to beguile, To church then I went without fear, So he handed me over the stile.