A Gypsy gang, a wand’ring set,
In a lone wood young Lubin met.
All round him press with canting tale,
And, in a jargon, well design’d
To cheat the unsuspecting mind,
His list’ning ears assail.
Some promis’d riches; others swore
He should, by women, be ador’d;
And never sad, and never poor—
Live like a Squire, or Lord;—