A SONG, – To its own Tune.
A Lovely lass to a friar came
To confess in a morning early.
In what, my dear, are you to blame?
Come own it all sincerely,
I’ve done, sir, what I dare not name,
With a lad who loves me dearly.
The greatest fault in myself I know,
Is what I now discover.
Then you to Rome for that must go,
There discipline to suffer.
Lake a day, sir! if it must be so,
Pray with me send my lover.
No, no, my dear, you do but dream,
We‘ll have no double dealing;
But if with me you’ll repete the same,
I’ll pardon your past failing.
I must own, sir, tho’ I blush for shame,
That your penance is prevailing.
– Authors Unknown.