Sylvia the Fair

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SYLVIA the fair, in the bloom of fifteen
Felt an innocent warmth, as she lay on the green:
She had heard of a pleasure, and something she guessed
By the towzing and tumbling and touching her breast:
She saw the men eager, but was at a loss,
What they meant by their sighing and kissing so close;

By their praying and whining,
And clasping and twining,
And panting and wishing,
And sighing and kissing,
And sighing and kissing so close.

Ah! she cried, ah! for a languishing maid
In a country of Christians to die without aid
Not a Whig, or a Tory, or Trimmer at least,
Or a Protestant parson or Catholic priest
To instruct a young virgin that is at a loss
What they meant by their sighing and kissing so close;

By their praying and whining,
And clasping and twining,
And panting and wishing,
And sighing and kissing,
And sighing and kissing so close.

Cupid in shape of a swain did appear,
He saw the sad wound, and in pity drew near,
Then showed her his arrow, and bid her not fear,
For the pain was no more than a maiden may bear;
When the balm was infused, she was not at a loss
What they meant by their sighing and kissing so close;

By their praying and whining,
And clasping and twining,
And panting and wishing,
And sighing and kissing,
And sighing and kissing so close.

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