A merry, laughing maiden,
Light-hearted, fair and free,
Comes tripping down the path way
In search of love and me.
Sweet little Cupid's arrows
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Lie ready on his bow;
His eager, willful spirit
Quite longs to lay me low.
Without a thought of danger
I meet the merry mail,
Her pretty face entraps me;
The debt to love is paid,
Back runs the laughing Cupid,
O'erjoyed at his success,
While the quiver on his shoulder
Holds just two arrows less.
[Tablet,
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