When rustic woman stoops to folly,
And finds too late that Curates flirt;
It pains, ah! sharper than the holly
Whose spikes her pretty fingers hurt.
Pleasant is pulpit-decoration,
And altar-ornamenting's sweet,
When girls get lost in contemplation
Of parson-whiskers, trim and neat.
Most pleasant too the cheery chatter
Of woodland parties, in the snow,