To marry, and make me at ease!

When I've nothing my leisure to hinder,
I scarce get as far as the eaves;
Her head's instant out of the window,
Calling out like a press after thieves.
The young men all fall to remarking,
And laugh till they're weary to see 't,
While the dogs at the noise begin barking,
And I slink in with shame from the street.

My mother's aye jealous of loving,
My father's aye jealous of play,
So what with them both there's no moving,
I'm in durance for life and a day.
O who shall I get for to marry me?
Who will have pity to woo?
'T is death any longer to tarry me,
And what shall a poor maiden do?




FARE THEE WELL

[Clare's note:--"Scraps from my father and mother, completed."]

Here's a sad good bye for thee, my love,
To friends and foes a smile:
I leave but one regret behind,