Ballad. In Annette and Lubin

My Lord, and please you, he and I,
Morn, noon, and night, in every weather,
From little children, not this high,
In the same cottage liv'd together:

Our parents left me to his care,
Saying, let no one put upon her:
" No, that I won't," says he, " I swear;"
And he ne'er lies, and like your honour.

II.

As I was saying, we grew up,
For all the world sister and brother,
One never had nor bit nor sup,
Unless it was partook by t'other:

And I am sure, instead of me,
Were it a duchess, he had won her;
He is so good, and I've, d'ye see,
A tender heart, and like your honour.

III.

But, woe is ours, now comes the worst,
To-day our sorrows are beginning,
What I thought love — oh, I shall burst —
That nasty Bailly says was sinning.

With Lubin, who, of all the bliss
I ever tasted is the donor,
I took delight to toy and kiss,
Till I'm with child, and like your honour.
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