[Painted Ladies]
Oh, the pretty painted ladies!
Oh, the naughty painted ladies,
That go running, climbing, running,
All about my cottage door.
Would you have their story, Johnny?
Sit beside me, Sweet-and-bonny!
You shall hear a sadder story
Than you ever beard before.
These were maidens fair and slender,
Some with dove-eyes, brown and tender,
Some with black, and some with blue eyes,
Locks of auburn, locks of gold.
Rosy cheeks, and lips of cherry,
Voices glad and laughter merry,
Ever smiling, ever singing,
Over gay and over bold.
And these maids were ever running,
Watching going, watching coming,
Asking questions of each other
And of every one they knew.
Peeping, peeping, here and yonder,
Ready still to guess and wonder,
"Was it she?" "And did he do it?"
"Tell me quickly!" "Tell me true!"
Oh, the pretty painted ladies!
Oh, the naughty painted ladies!
When the king came riding, riding,
For to seek him out a bride,
How they whispered, how they chattered;
Each herself in secret flattered
She could win him, she could wed him,
In an hour, if she tried.
So they prinked and pranked them gayly,
So they crimped and curled them daily,
Trying ring and trying jewel,
All their beauty to complete.
Not content with Nature's roses,
Fie! their cheeks are painted posies;
And their lips are red and reddest,
But alas! they are not sweet.