The WIDOWER's COURTSHIP.

Roger a doleful widower,
 Full eighteen weeks had been,
 When he, to meet the milk-maid Nell,
 Came smiling o'er the green. 

Blithe as a lad of seventeen,
 He thus accosted Nell;
 Give me your pail, I'll carry it
 For you, if you think well. 

Says Nell, indeed my milking-pail
 You shall not touch, I vow;
 I've carried it myself before,
 And I can carry it now. 

So side by side they walk'd a-while,
 Then he at last did say;
 My inclination is to come
 And see you, if I may. 

Nell understood his meaning well,
 And briskly answer'd she;
 You may see me at any time,
 If you look where I be. 

Says he, but hear me yet a-while,
 I've something more to tell;
 I gladly wou'd a sweetheart be
 Unto you, Mistress Nell. 

A sweetheart I don't want, says Nell,
 Kind Sir, and if you do,
 Another you may seek, for I
 Am not the lass for you. 

When she had made him this reply,
 He'd nothing more to say
 But — Nelly, a good night to you,
 And homeward went his way.