Song

I love the jocund dance, The softly breathing song, Where innocent eyes do glance, And where lisps the maiden's tongue.

I love the laughing gale, I love the echoing hill, Where mirth does never fail, And the jolly swain laughs his fill.

I love the pleasant cot, I love the innocent bower, Where white and brown is our lot, Or fruit in the midday hour.

I love the oaken seat, Beneath the oaken tree, Where all the old villagers meet, And laugh our sports to see.

I love our neighbors all, But, Kitty, I better love thee; And love them I ever shall; But thou art all to me.