| T. R. Smith, comp. Poetica Erotica: Rare and Curious Amatory Verse. 1921–22. | | | | The Kingdom of the Birds | | Anonymous |
| | (A Dialogue between Mr. Pack and Mrs. Bradshaw, in the Opera, called The Kingdom of the Birds, 1719)
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| | She. | Oh Love if a God thou wilt be, | |
| Do Justice in Favour of me | |
| For yonder approaching I see | |
| A Man with a Beard, | |
| Who as I have heard, | 5 |
| Has often undone | |
| Poor Maids that have none, | |
| With sighing, and toying, | |
| And crying, and lying, | |
| And such kind of Foolery. | 10 |
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| He. | Fair Maid by your Leave, | |
| My Heart does receive | |
| Strange Pleasure to meet you here, | |
| Pray tremble not so, | |
| Nor offer to go, | 15 |
| I’ll do ye no Harm, I swear, | |
| I’ll do ye no Harm, I swear. | |
| |
| She. | My Mother is spinning at Home, | |
| My Father works hard at his Loom, | |
| And we here a milking are come, | 20 |
| Their Dinner they want, | |
| Pray, Gentleman, don’t | |
| Make more ado on’t, | |
| Nor give us affront, | |
| We’re none of the Town | 25 |
| Will lie down for a Crown, | |
| Then away, Sir, and give us Room. | |
| |
| He. | By Phœbus, by Jove, | |
| By Honour, by Love, | |
| I’ll do ye dear sweet no harm, | 30 |
| Your as fresh as a Rose, | |
| I want one of those, | |
| Ah, how such a Wife would charm, | |
| Ah, how such a Wife would charm. | |
| |
| She. | And can you then like the old Rule, | 35 |
| Be Conjugal, honest, and dull, | |
| And marry, and look like a Fool, | |
| For I must be plain, | |
| All Tricks are in vain, | |
| There’s nothing can gain | 40 |
| The Thing you’d obtain, | |
| But moving, and proving, | |
| By Wedding, true Loving, | |
| My lesson I learnt at School. | |
| |
| He. | I’ll do’t by this Hand, | 45 |
| I’ve Houses, I’ve Land, | |
| Estate too in good Free-hold, | |
| My Dear, let us join, | |
| It all shall be thine, | |
| Besides a good Purse of Gold. | 50 |
| |
| She. | You make me to blush, now I vow, | |
| Oh Lord, shall I too baulk my Cow, | |
| But since the late Oath you have swore, | |
| Your Soul shall not be, | |
| In danger for me, | 55 |
| I’ll rather agree, | |
| Of two to make three, | |
| We’ll Wed, and we’ll Bed, | |
| There’s no more to be said, | |
| And I’ll ne’er go a Milking more. | 60 | | |
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