He to her his mind doth tell—
"I feel somewhat dry, my Mary,
And some beer would be as well."
She replies, by way of feeler,
"La, who'd thought of seeing thee?"
He is but a smart young peeler,
And a maid-of all-work she.
He to lips that do not falter,
Raises up the half-pint mug;
Vows his love will never alter—