Songs, Song VII

Hark, hark! o'er the plains how the merry bells ring Asleep while my charmer is laid; The village is up and the day on the wing, And Phillis may yet die a maid.

'Tis hardly yet day and I cannot away; O Damon! I am young and afraid: To-morrow my Dear! I 'll to church without fear, But let me to-night lie a maid.

The bridemaids are met, and mamma 's on the fret; All, all my coy Phillis upbraid: Come open the door, and deny me no more, Nor cry to live longer a maid.

Dear Shepherd! forbear, and to-morrow I swear, To-morrow I 'll not be afraid; I 'll open the door, and deny you no more, Nor cry to live longer a maid.

No, no, Phillis; no; on that bosom of snow To-night shall your shepherd be laid: By morning my dear shall be eas'd of her fear, Nor grieve she 's no longer a maid.

Then open the door, 't was unbolted before; His bliss silly Damon delay'd: To church let us go, and if there I say No, O then let me die an old maid.