LOVER.
I DO think it quite a pity
You so young should sink in sorrow,
I must say “Goodbye,” to-morrow;
Part we must, my little Kitty.
KITTY.
Noble is indeed the feather
You have mounted on your hat;
Only let us go together,
And I’ll give you two for that.
Mother has a cock at home;
And, poor fellow, he will cry
Piteously, when, plucking, I
Hold with t’ other hand his comb.
LOVER.
Kitty! I must serve my queen.
KITTY.
But the queen won’t let you love her
Like your Kitty: Kitty’s een
Will be dim ere war be over.
LOVER.
On the Green next year we’ll dance.
KITTY.
There are Greens where briars and stones
Rise against it over bones;
There may be such Greens in France.