And there did ev’ry secret tell,—
And there, at Sun-rise, knelt and pray’d.
For near, there liv’d a civil friend,
Than Farmer Twyford somewhat stouter,
And he would oft his counsel lend,
And pass the wintry hours away
In harmless play;
But Mistress Bridget was so chaste,
So much with pious manners grac’d,
That none could doubt her!