Fifty "Bab" Ballads: Much Sound and Little Sense by Sir W. S. (William Schwenck) Gilbert
page 12 of 183 (06%)
page 12 of 183 (06%)
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Ballad: TO A LITTLE MAID--BY A POLICEMAN. Come with me, little maid, Nay, shrink not, thus afraid - I'll harm thee not! Fly not, my love, from me - I have a home for thee - A fairy grot, Where mortal eye Can rarely pry, There shall thy dwelling be! List to me, while I tell The pleasures of that cell, Oh, little maid! What though its couch be rude, Homely the only food Within its shade? No thought of care Can enter there, No vulgar swain intrude! Come with me, little maid, Come to the rocky shade I love to sing; Live with us, maiden rare - |
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