And compliments to a degree;
And twenty that I cannot mention
Are all as keen courters as he.
She puts them all into such pickle
They care not what courses they run,
And if (as folks say) she be fickle,
’Tis twenty to one they’re undone.
Their loves would fill forty hand wallets,
If they were cramm’d in at both ends;
Their hearts are all sunk like lead pellets,