Twas when the seas were roaring With hollow blasts of wind, A damsel lay deploring, All on a rock reclined.
From kings to cobblers 'tis the same; Bad servants wound their masters' fame.
In love we are all fools alike.
In every age and clime we see Two of a trade can never agree.
Learning by study must be won; 'Twas ne'er entail'd from son to son.
What then in love can woman do? If we grow fond they shun us. And when we fly them, they pursue: But leave us when they've won us.