Now Jonas the miller (her uncle) for dower Had sent her a sack of the best wheaten flour; So on tarts, puddings, pies, she may work away fast As she likes, for materials her time out will last. She is rambling now To look after the cow, Who of course to a distance would stray. But she did not get cross, Though of time thus there's loss, For p'rhaps Murphy might chance come that way. He had toiled away fast, For the day or two past, To make the house fit for his bride. As he felt quite inclined, And had made up his mind, That there 'twould be best to reside. "Sure this morning he's late," Thought the dame, as a gate She approached which led into a lane, When a voice loud in song Was heard strolling along; Oh, she thought it a beautiful strain! "Oh, my love she is merry, And beautiful, very; Her lips are as red as a ripe juicy cherry. "Her neck than snow's whiter, Her eyes than stars brighter, Her step than the gentle gazelle's is far lighter. "Her fine sculptured nose is Surrounded with roses, And tulips, whose sweetness fresh beauty discloses. "Than the lark her voice sweeter, Yea, so perfect 's each feature, She is without doubt a most beautiful creature." "Oh, good morning, dear Murphy," the dame cried with pleasure, As she stept into sight when he finished the measure, "A most beautiful song that, and sung with much feeling; Quite enraptured, all care from my heart it seemed stealing, Like the music of birds, which will sometimes come creeping O'er our dreams in that state betwixt waking and sleeping." "Ah, you've listening been! I myself have betrayed, And the praises you've heard of a beautiful maid. Now, as oft I've heard said by those proverb-wise elves, That sly listeners never hear good of themselves, It could ne'er have been you to whose praise I sung out: But I see by that smile that there lingers a doubt, And you still think 'tis you from the kind of description. Well, 'tis true you seem made after such a prescription; But it does not do justice, as I can assure ye. I'll remand you till eve, when assemble the jury, And then if this gown that I've bought you'll appear in, The verdict of guilty I'm certain of hearing: For all of your guests will of envy be dying,-- The women, because you their charms are out-vieing; The men, 'cause I've won you while vain they were trying." Then on they walked, And blithely talked Of happiness in store. The cow soon caught Was homeward brought,-- Her rambling days are o'er; For Murphy all the hedges patched, The wicket swung and firmly latched, As it had hung before.