For I’m afraid to be laughed at,
And to be called a stupid brat.
Do you remember, darling child,
How I was fast, and oh, so wild?
But I’m not changed as yet the least,
Now, am I not a horrid beast?
Oh what a booby, dear, I was,
To care for so many fellows.
But the real object of my flame,
I truly should not know—to name.