The confession

A lovely lass with modest mien

Stole out one morning early;

The dew-drops glancing o'er the green

Made all her pathway pearly.

Young Lawrence struck with Cupid's dart, --

Cupid's dart distressing, --

As through the fields he saw her start,

Sighed, "She's gone confessing!

O vo! 'twould ease

my

heart

To earn the Father's blessing."

The Father, with a twinkling eye,

He watched my boyo cunning,

Unnoticed by his colleen's eye,

Behind the bushes running.

"How well," he laughed, "young Lawrence there,

After all my pressing,

With his sweetheart, I declare,

Comes at last confessing.

Oho! I'll just take care

To learn the lad a lesson."

The pleasant priest unbarred the door,

As solemn as a shadow,

"How slow," cried he, "you've come before,

How hot-foot now, my laddo.

The serious steal with looks sedate,

Seeking to be shriven,

But you, you're in no fitting state

Now to be forgiven,

So go within and wait,

With all your thoughts on heaven."

The fair one following in a while

Made out her faults with meekness;

The priest then asked her with a smile

Had she no other weakness,

And led with that young Lawrence in;

Her cheeks were now confessing.

"Well, since 'tis after all a sin

Easy of redressing,

Here, dear, I'd best begin

To give you both my blessing."