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THE SQUA B B l E.
LOBBIN CLOUT, CUDDY, CLODDIPOLE.
HY younglings, Cuddy, are but just awake, No thruftles fhrill the bramble bush forsake, No chirping lark the welkin fheen invokes, No damfel yet the fwelling udder ftrokes ; O'er yonder hill does fcant the dawn appear, Then why does Cuddy leave his cott fo rear?
Ah Lobbin Clout! I ween, my plight is gueft, For, he that loves, a ftranger is to rest; If fwains belye not, thou haft prov'd the fmart, And Blouzelinda's mistress of thy heart. This rifing rear betokeneth well thy mind, Those arms are folded for thy Blouzelind. And well, I trow, our piteous plights agree, Thee Blouzelinda fmites, Buxoma me.
Ah Blouzelind! I love thee more by half,
Than does their fawns, or cows the new-fall'n calf: Woe worth the tongue! may blifters fore it gall, That names Buxoma Blouzelind withal.
Hold, witlefs Lobbin Clout, I thee advife,
That pricking corns foretold the gath'ring rain.
See this tobacco-pouch, that's lin❜d with hair,
This pouch, that's ty'd with tape of reddeft hue,
Begin thy carrols, then, thou vaunting flouch;. Be thine the oaken ftaff, or mine the pouch..,
My Blouzelinda is the blitheft lafs,
My brown Buxoma is the featest maid,
Sweet is my toil when Blouzelind is near;
Come, Blouzelinda, eafe thy fwain's defire,
As with Buxoma, once, I work'd at hay,
As Blouzelinda, in a gamefome mood,
As my Buxoma, in a morning fair,
Leek to the Welch, to Dutchmen butter's dear,.
Of Irish fwains potatoe is the chear;
Oats, for their feasts, the Scottish fhepherds grind,
While fhe loves turnips, butter I'll despise,
In good roaft-beef my landlord flicks his knife, The capon fat delights his dainty wife,
Pudding our parfon eats, the 'fquire loves hare,
As orce I play'd at Blindman's-buff, it hapt
I mifs'd the fwains and feiz'd on Blouzelind.
As at Hot-cockles once I laid me down, And felt the weighty hand of many a clown; Buxoma gave a gentle tap, and I
Quick rofe, and read soft mischief in her eye.
On two near elms the slacken'd cord I hung, Now high, now low, my Blouzelinda fwung. With the rude wind her rumpled garment rofe, And show'd her taper leg, and scarlet hose.