Lady, lovely as thou art
Return, and ere thou dost undress
And lie down in thy nakedness
Repair to thy secret and favourite haunt
And drink the wine as thou art wont!
Hard to uncork and bright to decant.
My merry girl—she drinks—she drinks
Faster she drinks and faster,
My brain reels round as I see her whirl,
She hath turned on her heel with a sudden twirl;—