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FOURTH PASTORAL.
Behap what will, next Sunday after prayers, 125When to the ale-house Lubberkin repairs,These golden flies into his mug I'll throw,[1]And soon the swain with fervent love shall glow. With my sharp heel I three times mark the ground,And turn me thrice around, around, around. 130
But hold—our Light-foot barks, and cocks his ears,[2]O'er yonder stile see Lubberkin appears.He comes, he comes, Hobnelia's not bewray'd,Nor shall she, crown'd with willow, die a maid.He vows, he swears, he'll give me a green gown,Oh dear! I fall adown, adown, adown! 136
FRIDAY