Thomas Haynes Bayly

I'd be a butterfly, born in a bower,
Where roses and lilies and violets meet.

I'd be a butterfly, born in a bower,
Where roses and lilies and violets meet.

My fond affection thou hast seen,
Then judge of my regret
To think more happy thou hadst read more

My fond affection thou hast seen,
Then judge of my regret
To think more happy thou hadst been
If we had never met!
And has that thought been shared by thee?
Ah, no! that smiling cheek
Proves more unchanging love for me
Than labor'd words could speak.

O give me new figures! I can't go on dancing
The same that were taught me ten seasons ago;
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O give me new figures! I can't go on dancing
The same that were taught me ten seasons ago;
The schoolmaster over the land is advancing,
Then why is the master of dancing so slow?
It is such a bore to be always caught tripping
In dull uniformity year after year;
Invent something new, and you'll set me a skipping:
I want a new figure to dance with my Dear!

Tell me the tales that to me were so dear,
Long, long ago, long, long ago.

Tell me the tales that to me were so dear,
Long, long ago, long, long ago.

There is a method in man's wickedness:
It grows up by degrees.

There is a method in man's wickedness:
It grows up by degrees.