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As I went out one morning |
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To breathe the air around Tom Paine's, |
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I spied the fairest damsel |
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That ever did walk in chains. |
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I offer'd her my hand, |
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She took me by the arm. |
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I knew that very instant, |
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She meant to do me harm. |
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"Depart from me this moment," |
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I told her with my voice. |
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Said she, "But I don't wish to," |
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Said I, "But you have no choice." |
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"I beg you, sir," she pleaded |
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From the corners of her mouth, |
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"I will secretly accept you |
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And together we'll fly south." |
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Just then Tom Paine, himself, |
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Came running from across the field, |
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Shouting at this lovely girl |
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And commanding her to yield. |
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And as she was letting go her grip, |
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Up Tom Paine did run, |
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"I'm sorry, sir," he said to me, |
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"I'm sorry for what she's done." |
