The Widower’s Courtship

Roger a doleful widower,

Full eighteen weeks had been,

When he, to meet the milk-maid Nell

Came smiling o’er the green.

Blithe as a lad of seventeen,

He thus accosted Nell;

Give me your pail, I’ll carry it

For you, if you think well.

Says Nell, indeed my milking-pail

You shall not touch, I vow;

I’ve carried it myself before,

And I can carry it now.

So side by side they walked awhile,

Then he at last did say;

My inclination is to come

And see you, if I may.

Nell understood his meaning well,

And briskly answered she;

You may see me at any time,

If you look where I be.

Says he, but hear me yet awhile,

I’ve something more to tell;

I gladly would a sweetheart be

Unto you, Mistress Nell.

A sweetheart I don’t want, says Nell,

Kind Sir, and if you do,

Another you may seek, for I

Am not the lass for you.

When she had made him this reply,

He’d nothing more to say

But — Nelly, as good night to you,

And homeward went his way.