Country dance

That hobnailed goblin,

the bob-tailed Hob,

Said, "It is time I began to rob."

For strawberries bob,

hob-nob with the pearls

Of cream

(like the curls of the dairy girls),

And flushed with the heat and

fruitish ripe

Are the gowns of the maids who

dance to the pipe.

Chase a maid?

She's afraid!

"Go gather a bob-cherry kiss from a tree,

But don't, I prithee, come

bothering me!"

She said -

As she fled.

The snouted satyrs drink clouted

cream

'Neath the chestnut-trees is thick as

a dream;

So I went

And leant,

Where none but the doltish coltish wind

Nuzzled my hand for what could find.

As I neighed

I said,

"Don't touch me, sir,

don't touch me, I say,

You'll tumble my strawberries

into the hay.

Those snow-mounds of silver that

bee, the spring,

Has sucked his sweetness from,

I will bring

With fair-haired plants and with

apples chill

For the great god Pan's high altar

...I'll spill

Not one!"

So, in fun

We rolled on the grass and began to

run

Chasing that gaudy satyr the Sun;

Over the haycocks, away we ran

Crying, "Here be berries as

sunburnt as Pan!"

But Silenus

Has seen us...

He runs like the rough satyr Sun.

Come away!