---

When silver snow decks Susan's clothes,
And jewel hangs at the shepherd's nose,
The blushing bank is all my care,
With hearth so red, and walls so fair;
`Heap the sea-coal, come, heap it higher,
The oaken log lay on the fire.'


The well-wash'd stools, a circling row,
With lad and lass, how fair the show!
The merry can of nut-brown ale,
The laughing jest, the love-sick tale,
Till, tired of chat, the game begins.
The lasses prick the lads with pins.

Roger from Dolly twitched the stool,
She, falling, kissed the ground, poor fool!
She blushed so red, with sidelong glance
At hob-nail Dick, who grieved the chance.


But now for Blind man's Buff they call;
Of each encumbrance clear the hall,
Jenny her silken 'kerchief folds,
And blear-eyed Will the black lot holds.
Now laughing stops, with

`Silence! hush!'

`Now, Kitty, now! what chance hast thou,
Roger so near thee!' - 'Trips, I vow!'
She catches him - then Roger ties
His own head up - but not his eyes;
For through the slender cloth he sees,
And runs at Sam, who slips with ease...

Such are the fortunes of the game,
And those who play should stop the same
By wholesome laws; such as all those
Who on the blinded man impose
Stand in his stead; as, long a-gone,
When men were first a nation grown,
Lawless they liv'd...
And one man lay in another's way;
Then laws were made to keep fair play.

---

Teksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.