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The pony, Betty, and her boy,
Long Susan lay deep lost in thought,
She turned, she toss'd herself in bed,
"Alas! what is become of them?
"These fears can never be endured,
"I'll to the wood."—The word scarce said,
Did Susan rise up from her bed,
As if by magic cured.
Away she posts up hill and down,
And to the wood at length is come,
She spies her friends, she shouts a greeting;
Oh me 1 it is a merry meeting,
As ever was in Christendom.
The owls have hardly sung their last,
For while they all were travelling home,
Now Johnny all night long had heard
And thus to Betty's question, he,
Made answer, like a traveller bold,
(His very words I give te you,)
"The cocks did crow to-whoo, to-whoo,
"And the sun did shine so cold."
—Thus answered Johnny in his glory,
And that was all his travel's story.
All Thoughts, all Passions, all Delights,
Oft in my waking dreams do I
The Moonshine stealing o'er the scene
She lean'd against the Armed Man,
Few Sorrows hath she of her own,
I play'd a soft and doleful Air,
She listen'd with a flitting Blush,