From A Tanner

Though I’m a Tanner by my trade, Yet, Valentine, don’t be afraid, Tho’ often hides I tan, ’tis true, I ne’er will tan the hide of you: The bark and lime that’s in the pit, May tan the outside of my wit, And keep my heart quite stout for you Much more than other trades can do; Besides, mine is a useful trade, Since, without me, no shoes are made; Then let your heart to me incline, And I am, with love, your Valentine.

THE ANSWER.

Tho’ you in my heart, Mr. Tanner, would glide, I fear that you will tan my hide, Which sure would kill this heart of mine, If e’er you should, my Valentine. Useful’s your art, I own ’tis true, In making leather for the shoe; But may not yet that useful art As hard as leather tan your heart? Howe’er, I’ll not inconstant prove, But boldly venture on my love: So tenderly your heart incline, And be my gentle Valentine.

TO A LADY.

My Valentine, my lovely maid, Kind, gentle, fair and free, In all thy sex’s charms array’d How few are found like thee!

Thy image always fills my mind, So may your heart approve, Since fix’d to thee, alone, I find I need no other love.

TO A LADY, WITH A POCKET-BOOK.

Appointments often you’ve mistook, So I send a memorandum book; The days, weeks, and months you’ll see, As handy, Miss, as they can be. To suit it to your mind the better, There is a case to hold a letter, With other things of good design, And fit for you, my Valentine.

THE ANSWER.

Your present is of use, I find, And is quite artfully design’d, To put me still in mind of you; Say, Valentine, is it not true? Well, I will try to do my best, And set you down among the rest.

FROM A CURRIER AND LEATHER-CUTTER.

Though I each day well dress my leather, I often wish we were together; For you alone have gain’d my heart, And stripp’d my skin of ev’ry art. In vain I colour, shave, and cut, You to my tramp have surely put. My wax is hard, my paste is spoil’d, You my good souls have all beguil’d. O then, sweetheart, to me incline, And bless your constant Valentine.

THE ANSWER.

You cutter-up of many souls, And cause of divers ends and holes; You mixer, dauber, pray be quiet, Nor in my heart kick up a riot; Be not in haste, good master Leather, And we mayhap may come together. Therefore, in hope, believe I’m thine, As you prove true, good Valentine.

TO A LADY.

My dear, with this I blow a kiss, As earnest of our future bliss; I have not time to tell you more, But you alone I do adore.

THE ANSWER.

Yours I receiv’d, and if ’tis bliss, With this take back a loving kiss. A faithful heart who can refuse, An honest hand who would not choose. I accept both, and vow I’m thine, Your constant loving Valentine.

FINIS.

Printed by Thomas Richardson, Derby.