How does the gentleman propose
To win his lady fair?
Too often, fellows in the throes
Of passion fail to take due care
They lack sufficient sweet address
To woo their ladies with success.
She has no taste for common charms.
She does not relish wit.
She sets no store by strength of arms –
She won’t admire it.
She does not fall for wealth or style.
She is indifferent to a smile.
She has a thousand, thousand beaus.
She is a seraphim.
What makes him fitter than his foes?
What will distinguish him?
When it comes time to make her choice,
He hopes to catch her with his voice.
His voice is light and clear and sweet,
And he will cast it at her feet.
The sun retreats – its going throws
Long shadows on the fields.
He sings, and sings away her woes.
At last the lady yields.
At heart, she is a simple lass.
Her bride-price is not dear.
A song will help the evening pass –
She wants a little cheer.
She settles down into their bed,
When darkness comes, to rest
And lay her weary feathered head
Upon his rose-red breast