Heigh-ho! for a husband!—heigh-ho!
There's a danger in longer delay!—
Shall I never again have a beau?
Will nobody marry me, pray?
I begin to feel strange, I declare!
With beauty my prospects will fade!—
I'd give myself up to despair
If I thought I should die an old maid!
I once cut the beaux in a huff!—
I thought it a sin and a shame
That no one had spirit enough
To ask me to alter my name!
So I turned up my nose at the short,
And rolled up my eyes at the tall;
But then I just did it in sport,
And now I've no lover at all!
These men are the plague of my life!—
'Tis hard from so many to choose!—
Should one of them wish for a wife,
Could I have the heart to refuse?
I don't know—for none have proposed!
Oh, dear me!—I'm frightened, I vow!
Good gracious!—whoever supposed
That I should be single till now?