T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22.
“Lord! What’s Come to My Mother”
By Thomas D’Urfey (1653–1723)(From The Bath or The Western Lass) LORD! what’s come to my Mother, | |
| That every Day more than other, | |
| My true Age she would smother, | |
| And says I’m not in my Teens; | |
| Tho’ my Sampler I’ve sown too, | 5 |
| My Bib and my Apron out-grown too, | |
| Baby quite away thrown too, | |
| I wonder what ’tis she means; | |
| When our John does squeeze my Hand, | |
| And call me sugar sweet, | 10 |
| My Breath almost fails me, | |
| I know not what ails me, | |
| My Heart does so heave and so beat. | |
| I have heard of Desires, | |
| From Girls that have just been of my Years, | 15 |
| Love compar’d to sweet Briars, | |
| That hurts, and yet does please: | |
| Is Love finer than Money, | |
| Or can it be sweeter than Honey, | |
| I’m poor Girl such a Toney, | 20 |
| Evade that I cannot guess, | |
| But I’m sure I’ll watch more near, | |
| There’s something that Truth will shew, | |
| For if Love be a Blessing, | |
| To please beyond Kissing, | 25 |
| Our Jane and our Butler does know. | |