Lines
Addressed to Jonathan Wingle, Esq.
In summer time we roam o’er dingle,
But winter draws us round the ingle ;
Why do you remain thus single,
When love would make two hearts tingle?
Pray tell me why, my dearest Wingle,
With the fair you do not mingle?
Better with love 'neath cot of shingle
Than all your yellow gold to jingle.
For married life you would enjoy,
And soon a little girl and boy
They would your leisure hours employ.
At Christmas you could buy each toy
And fill their little hearts with joy,
For their amusements never cloy.
Business cares do men annoy,
Child’s happiness knows no alloy.
