Onyons

Come, follow me by the Smell,

Here's delicate Onyons to sell,

I promise to use you well.

They make the Blood warmer,

You'll feed like a Farmer:

For this is ev'ry Cook's Oponion,

No sav'ry Dish without an Onyon;

But lest your Kissing should be spoyl'd,

Your Onyons must be th'roughly boyl'd;

Or else you may spare

Your Mistress a Share,

The Secret will never be known;

She cannot discover

The Breath of her Lover,

But think it as sweet as her own.