English poem
THE SKY LARK, &c, Song
by Anonymous
In choice of a husband we widows are nice, I'd not have a man who'd grow old in a trice, Not a bear or a monkey, a clown or a fop, But one that could bustle and stir in my shop.
A log I'll avoid, when I'm choosing my lad, And a stork that might gabble up all that I had, Such suitors I've had, Sir, but off they might hop, I want one that can bustle and stir in my shop.
The lad in my eye is the man to my mind, So handsome, so young, so polite, and so kind, With such a good soul to the altar I'd pop, He's the man that can bustle and stir in my shop.