Fugen eBooks

O yes! O yes! O yes!
Here is a pretty mess!
A maiden's heart is gone,
And she is left forlorn,
And panting with desire;
Whoever shall bring it me,
They shall rewarded be.
With kisses one, two, three.
Cupid is the crier,
Ring-a-ding, a-ding,
Cupid is the crier.
'Twas lost on Sunday eve,
Or taken without leave,
A virgin's heart so pure,
She can't the loss endure,
And surely will expire;
Pity her misery.
Rewarded you shall be,
With kisses one, two, three.
Cupid is the crier,
Ring-a-ding, a-ding,
Cupid is the crier.
The maiden sought around,
It was not to be found,
She searched each nook and dell,
The haunts she loved so well,
All anxious with desire;
The wind blew ope his vest,
When, lo! the toy in quest,
She found within the breast
Of Cupid, the false crier,
Ring-a-ding, a-ding-a-ding,
Cupid the false crier.
"Many thanks, Mistress Corbett, for a good song, sung in good tune, with
a sweet voice," said Jemmy.


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