For she only shook her little head and said it was no use.
"Oh thou fairest, brightest, flower,
That e'er bloomed in beauty's bower!
Than the nightingale's sweet melody I much prefer your voice;
Then, dear maid, be not thus cruel,
I can bear neglect from you, ill.
As I've banished all your rivals to allow you the first choice."
"Oh, you men do so deceive, sir,
That your vows I'll not believe, sir,
For you tell each girl she's pretty, that you roaming chance to meet;