I’d be a Rifleman, I’d be a Rifleman,
Flirting in peace-time when battle is done.
From The Bentley Ballads. (London. Richard Bentley.)
Song of the College Bedmaker.
I make the butter fly all in an hour;
I put aside the preserves and cold meats,
Telling my master his cream has turned sour,
Hiding his pickles, purloining his sweets.
I never languish for husband or dower;