Tune Befsey's Haggles
6 6*
Befsy's bofom's faft and warm,
Milk-white fingers ftill employ'd,
He who tales her to his arm,
Of her fweets can ne'er be cloyd.
My dear Befsy, when the rofes
Befsy's- tocher is but fcanty,
Yet her face and foul difcovers
Thofe enchanting fweets in plentj
Maunfntice a thoufand lorers^'
Tis not money, but a woman
Leave thy cheek, as thou grows auider. Of a temper kind and eafy,
Virtue, which thy mind difclofes, That gives bappinefs uncommon;
Will keep love from growing caulder. Petted thing-scan nought but tea/e ye.