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30 
Columbine. 
DESERTION. 
Dear me! I felt a trifle sad, ; 
When all cried out, ‘‘ What have you done!” 
For, sure enough, I loved the lad: 

But who d take up with number one? 
So, vive Pamour! I gaily eried, 
And he, poor wretch, was soon forgot, 
For I ’d a hundred sparks beside : 
Was I right, or was I not? 
But now ’t is come into my head, 
That I must grow discreet and sage 5 
For there are hints my charms have fled, 
And I approach “a certain age.” 
So the next offer, —that ’s my plan, — 
I °ll nail decisive on the spot; 
*T is time that I °d secured my man: 
Am I right, or am I not? 
But ah! though gladly I ’d say “* Yes,” 
The looks of all the men say ‘ No.” 
Who would have thought *t would come to this? 
But mother says, ‘I told you so!” 
Friends, lovers, danglers, now are gone 5 
Not one is left of all the lot ; 
And I ’m a “‘ maiden all forlorn!” 
Is it right, or is it not? 



