Her lips were red, and one was thin
Compared to that was next her chin
(Some bee had stung it newly); But,
Dick, her eyes so guard her face
I durst no more upon them gaze
Than on the sun in July.
Her mouth so small, when she does speak,
Thou ‘dst swear her teeth her words did break,
That they might passage get;
But she so handled still the matter,
They came as good as ours, or better,
And are not spent a whit.
If wishing should be any sin,
The parson himself had guilty been
(She looked that day so purely);
And did the youth so oft the feat
At night, as some did in conceit,
It would have spoiled him, surely.
Passion o’ me, how I run on!
There’s that that would be thought upon,
I trow,’ besides the bride.
The business of the kitchen’s great,
For it is fit that man should eat,
Nor was it there denied.
Just in the nick the cook knocked thrice,
And all the waiters in a trice His summons did obey;
Each serving-man, with dish in hand,
Marched boldly up, like our trained band,’
Presented, and away.
When all the meat was on the table,
What man of knife or teeth was able
To stay to be entreated?
And this the very reason was,
Before the parson could say grace,
The company was seated.
Now hats fly off, and youths carouse;
Healths first go round, and then the house;
The bride’s came thick and thick:
And when ’twas named another’s health,
Perhaps he made it hers by stealth;
And who could help it, Dick?
O’ th’ sudden up they rise and dance;
Then sit again and sigh and glance;
Then dance again and kiss.
Thus several ways the time did pass,
Till every woman wished her place,
And every man wished his!
By this time all were stolen aside
To counsel and undress the bride,
But that he must not know;
But yet ’twas thought he guessed her mind,
And did not mean to stay behind
Above an hour or so.
When in he came,
Dick, there she lay
Like new-fallen snow melting away
(’Twas time, I trow, to part);
Kisses were now the only stay,
Which soon she gave, as who would say,
“God b’ w’ ye, with all my heart.”
But just as heaven would have, to cross it,
In came the bridesmaids with the posset.
The bridegroom ate in spite,
For had he left the women to ‘t,
It would have cost two hours to do ‘t,
Which were too much that night.
At length the candle’s out, and now
All that they had not done, they do.
What that is, who can tell?
But I believe it was no more
Than thou and I have done before
With Bridget and with Nell.
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A Ballad upon a Wedding continue…
