Tixall Poetry.
181
Mo.Bounce it, Mall, if you soe please,
Like a Meremaid on the seas;
And I thinke, you there wil find
Store of straines to please your mind:
Roundelaies,
Irish haies,
Cogs, and Rongs, and Peggie Ramsy;
Spaniletto,
The venitto,
John come kis me, Wilson's fancie.
Like a Meremaid on the seas;
And I thinke, you there wil find
Store of straines to please your mind:
Roundelaies,
Irish haies,
Cogs, and Rongs, and Peggie Ramsy;
Spaniletto,
The venitto,
John come kis me, Wilson's fancie.
Ma.But of all, there's none soe spritly,
None soe sweet, as Touch me lightly.
Were I at the gaspe of death,
Such a charme revives my breath.
There, there, there,
To a haire,
O, Tom Croud, methinks I heare thee:
Young or old,
Nere could hold,
But must rouse if they come nere thee.
None soe sweet, as Touch me lightly.
Were I at the gaspe of death,
Such a charme revives my breath.
There, there, there,
To a haire,
O, Tom Croud, methinks I heare thee:
Young or old,
Nere could hold,
But must rouse if they come nere thee.
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