While my heart in my bosom goes thump.
The best callimanco’s your hair,
Your skin is the lining so fair,
My awl to your eyes I compare,
That wounded the heart of poor Clump.
Your teeth, which like ivory show,
Are the pegs in a white even row,
Which I drive, while at every blow
My heart in my bosom goes thump.
Each object of you seems a part,