When silver snow decks Susan's clothes, And jewel hangs at th' 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, tir'd of chat, the game begins.
The lasses prick the lads with pins; Roger from Dolly twitch'd the stool, She, falling, kiss'd the ground, poor fool!
She blush'd so red, with side-long glance At hob-nail Dick, who griev'd 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 thro' 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.