O,
tall and fair is Mary,
But what is that to me, I pray?
Her
playful smiles and saucy wiles
Are flashing not my way.
Pretty Mary,
Witty Mary,
She hath a winning way.
I
love her, yes I love her
But
I must tell her nay.
O,
sweet and good is Mary,
The sweetest name of all today;
Her
eyes are brown and looketh down
Whene’er
I bid her stay.
Lithesome Mary,
Blithesome Mary,
How
many hearts you slay;
She
knoweth that I love her,
But
I must bid her nay.
O,
plump and round is Mary,
But why should I indite this lay?
She’s
lost to me ‘tis plain to see,
And soon will go away.
Airy Mary,
Fairy Mary.
Both debonair and gay;
These
lines my only pleading,
Are all that I can say.
Dec.
28, ‘96
Pub.
Camb. Press,
Jan. 2, ‘97
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