Pious Selinda goes to prayers,
If I but ask the favour;
And yet the tender fool's in tears,
When she believes I'll leave her.
Would I were free from this restraint,
Or else had hopes to win her;
Would she would make of me a saint,
Or I of her a sinner.
If I but ask the favour;
And yet the tender fool's in tears,
When she believes I'll leave her.
Would I were free from this restraint,
Or else had hopes to win her;
Would she would make of me a saint,
Or I of her a sinner.
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