Might charm the first of human kind.
I love my Peggy’s angel air,
Her face so truly, heavenly fair,
Her native grace so void of art;
But I adore my Peggy’s heart.
Not to put too fine a point upon it, this is arrant drivel, villainously rhymed. Then comes Up in the Morning Early:
Up in the morning’s no’ for me,
Up in the morning early;
When a’ the hills are cover’d wi’ snaw,
I’m sure it’s winter fairly.