And sing plain words as there she’s sot—
Haply they’ll rhyme, and haply not.
I spake plain words in former days,
No guile I showed, clear was my plan;
My gole it matrimony was;
My earthly aim it was a man.
I gained my man, I won my gole;
Alas! I feel not as I fole.
Yes, ringing through my maiden thought
This clear voice rose: “Oh come up higher.”