Celemene

Celemene, pray tell me Celemene,

When those pretty eyes I see;

When my heart beats in my breast,

Why it will not let me rest?

Why this trembling too all o'er,

Pains I never felt before.

And when thus I touch your hand,

Why I wish I was a man?

How should I know more than you?

Yet would be a woman too,

When you wash yourself and play,

I methinks could look all day.

Nay just now I'm pleas'd so well,

Should you kiss me I won't tell.

Tho' I could do that all day,

And desire no better play;

Sure in love there's something more,

Which makes Mamma so big before.

Once by chance I heard it named;

Don't ask what, for I'm ashamed.

Stay but till you're past fifteen,

Then you'll know what 'tis I mean.

However lose not present bliss;

But now we're alone let's kiss.

My breasts do so heave.

My heart does so pant.

There's something more we want.