'Come, Goody, stop your humdrum wheel,
Sweep up your orts, and get your Hat;
Old joys reviv'd once more I feel,
'Tis Fair-day;—ay, and more than that.
The Deliberation.
'Have you forgot, Kate, prithee say,
'How many Seasons here we've tarry'd?
'Tis Forty years, this very day,
'Since you and I, old Girl, were married
'Look out;—the Sun shines warm and bright,
'The Stiles are low, the paths all dry;
'I know you cut your corns last night:
'Come; be as free from care as I.
'For I'm resolv'd once more to see
'That place where we so often met;
'Though few have had more cares than we,
'We've none just now to make us fret.'
Kate scorn'd to damp the generous flame
That warm'd her aged Partner's breast;
Yet, ere determination came,
She thus some trifling doubts express'd.
Difficulties—Consent.
'Night will come on; when seated snug,
'And you've perhaps begun some tale,
'Can you then leave your dear stone mug;
'Leave all the folks, and all the Ale?'
'Ay, Kate, I wool;—because I know,
'Though time has been we both could run,
'Such days are gone and over now;—
'I only mean to see the fun.'
She straight slipp'd off the Wall and Band, [Terms used in spinning]
And laid aside her Lucks and Twitches:
And to the Hutch And gave him out his Sunday Breeches.