Trying on the bodice, trying on the capes,
Keep your fingers moving, cause its getting late.
Sewing in the chamber, stitching in the hall,
Servants in the kitchen, fixing for the ball;
Every one is busy ’cepting Jane and I,
Do you know the reason—shall I tell you why?
Sitting on the sofa, leaning on my breast,
Is a lovely maiden, perfectly at rest;
Listening to my love vows, sighing very plain,
Bless me this is pleasant, sparking Sarah Jane.