'Twas thought of on the spur, its thus that brightest songs are made,
I think that you'll agree with me, 'twas a compo serenade.
I felt the song was working, 'twas amorous, and new,
'Twas making an impression, a thing I always do,
As tho' the middle ages, were back again in Birr,
Hark! hark behind her lattice, at last I heard a stir!
O there's nothing like the feeling that passes through the mind
When you know a lovely lady is pulling up her blind,
And my heart was all a-flutter, in that lonely street of Birr,
When I heard the curtains rustle, with the sylphid hand of her.