The maidens of Turniptopville
Were simple—ingenuous—pure—
And they all worked away with a will
The nobleman’s heart to secure.
Two maidens all others beyond
Endeavoured his cares to dispel—
The one was the lively Ann Pond,
The other sad Mary Morell.
Ann Pond had determined to try
And carry the Earl with a rush;
Her principal feature was eye,
Her greatest accomplishment—gush.
And Mary chose this for her play:
Whenever he looked in her eye
She’d blush and turn quickly away,
And flitter, and flutter, and sigh.
It was noticed he constantly sighed
As she worked out the scheme she had planned,
A fact he endeavoured to hide
With his aristocratical hand.
Old Pond was a farmer, they say,
And so was old Tommy Morell.
In a humble and pottering way
They were doing exceedingly well.
They both of them carried by vote
The Earl was a dangerous man;
So nervously clearing his throat,
One morning old Tommy began:
“My darter’s no pratty young doll—
I’m a plain-spoken Zommerzet man—
Now what do ’ee mean by my Poll,
And what do ’ee mean by his Ann?”
Said B., “I will give you my bond
I mean them uncommonly well,
Believe me, my excellent Pond,
And credit me, worthy Morell.
“It’s quite indisputable, for
I’ll prove it with singular ease,—
You shall have it in ‘Barbara’ or
‘Celarent’—whichever you please.