Of one who nothing has but love!
Poor men abound where'er we rove,
And I can get one any day:
(When rich, pray call around this way).
Suppose we loved, and married were,
And fortune gave to us an heir,
Pray who would nurse and care for it?
Who train its mind? who mould its wit?
Who'd wash the dishes, cook the food,
Do out-door chores, and cut the wood?