She that with poetry is won,
Is but a desk to write upon;
And what men say read more

She that with poetry is won,
Is but a desk to write upon;
And what men say of her they mean
No more than on the thing they lean.

Why don't the men propose, mamma?
Why don't the men propose?

Why don't the men propose, mamma?
Why don't the men propose?

"Yes," I answered you last night;
"No," this morning, sir, I say:
Colors seen by candle-light
read more

"Yes," I answered you last night;
"No," this morning, sir, I say:
Colors seen by candle-light
Will not look the same by day.

There is a tide in the affairs of women
Which, taken at the flood, leads--God knows where.

There is a tide in the affairs of women
Which, taken at the flood, leads--God knows where.

Never wedding, ever wooing,
Still a lovelorn heart pursuing,
Read you not the wrong you're doing
read more

Never wedding, ever wooing,
Still a lovelorn heart pursuing,
Read you not the wrong you're doing
In my cheek's pale hue?
All my life with sorrow strewing;
Wed or cease to woo.

Thrice happy's the wooing that's not long adoing.
So much time is saved in the billing and cooing.

Thrice happy's the wooing that's not long adoing.
So much time is saved in the billing and cooing.

So mourn'd the dame of Ephesus her Love,
And thus the Soldier arm'd with Resolution
Told his read more

So mourn'd the dame of Ephesus her Love,
And thus the Soldier arm'd with Resolution
Told his soft Tale, and was a thriving Wooer.

How often in the summer-tide,
His graver business set aside,
His stripling Will, the thoughtful-eyed
read more

How often in the summer-tide,
His graver business set aside,
His stripling Will, the thoughtful-eyed
As to the pipe of Pan,
Stepped blithesomely with lover's pride
Across the fields to Anne.

Duncan Gray cam here to woo,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
On blithe Yuletide when we were read more

Duncan Gray cam here to woo,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
On blithe Yuletide when we were fou,
Ha, ha, the wooing o't!
Maggie coost her head fu' high,
Looked asklent and unco skeigh,
Gart poor Duncan stand abeigh:
Ha, ha! the wooing o't!