[Note the manner in which the rhyme is adapted to meet Arcadian peculiarities of pronunciation.
Spoken—Yes, I am—really, though you wouldn't think it to look at me, would you? But, for all that,—
Chorus—When I'm spoken to, I wriggle,
Going off into a giggle,
And as red as any peony I blush;
Then turn paler than a lily,
For I'm such a little silly,
That I'm always in a flutter or a flush!
[After each chorus an elaborate step-dance, expressive of shrinking maidenly modesty.
I've a cottage far away from other houses,
Which the nybours hardly ever come anoigh;
When they do, I run and hoide among the rouses,
For I cannot cure myself of being shoy.
Spoken—A great girl like me, too! But there, it's no use trying, for—
Chorus—When I'm spoken to, I wriggle, &c.
Well, the other day I felt my fice was crimson,
Though I stood and fixed my gyze upon the skoy,
For at the gyte was sorcy Chorley Simpson,
And the sight of him's enough to turn me shoy.
Spoken—It's singular, but Chorley always 'as that effect on me.
Chorus—When he speaks to me, I wriggle, &c.