My lady look'd long in her face, And you must our scullion be. So Catskin was under the cook, And broke poor Catskin's head. There is now a grand ball to be, When ladies their beauties show ; "Mrs. Cook," said Catskin, "dear me ! How much I should like to go." "You go with your Catskin-robe, A basin of water she took, And dashed in poor Catskin's face; But briskly her ears she shook, And went to her hiding place. She washed every stain from her skin, And hasted away to the ball. When she entered, the ladies were mute, But the lord, her young master, at once He pray'd her his partner to be, She said, "Yes," with a sweet smiling glance; All night with no other lady But Catskin, our young lord would dance. "Pray tell me, fair maid, where you live," “Kind sir, if the truth I must tell, At the sign of the basin of water † dwell.” Then she flew from the ball-room, and put And slipt in unseen by the cook, Who little thought where she had been. The young lord the very next day, To his mother his passion betray'd, And declared he never would rest, Till he'd found out his beautiful maid! There's another grand ball to be, Where ladies their beauty show; "Mrs. Cook," said Catskin, "dear me, How much I should like to go." "You go with your Catskin robe, In a rage the ladle she took, And broke poor Catskin's head; But off she went shaking her ears, And swift to her forest she fled. She washed every blood stain off, My lord at the ball-room door, Was waiting with pleasure and pain; He longed to see nothing so much, When he asked her to dance, she again "Pray tell me," said he, "where you live;" For now 'twas the parting time; But she no other answer would give, Than this distych of mystical rhyme, "Kind sir, if the truth I must tell, At the sign of the broken ladle k dwell.” Then she flew from the ball, and put on Her Catskin robe again; And slipt in unseen by the cook, Who little thought where she had been. My lord did again the next day, That he never more happy should be, Now another grand ball is to be, "You go with your Catskin robe, In a fury she took the skimmer, She washed the stains of blood, In some cristal waterfall; Then put on her most beautiful dress, My lord at the ball-room door, Was waiting with pleasure and pain ; When he asked her to dance, she again 66 With none but fair Catskin would dance! 'Pray tell me, fair maid, where you live;" For now was the parting time: But she no other answer would give, "Kind sir, if the truth k must tell, At the sign of the broken strimmer † dwell.” Then she flew from the ball, and threw on Her catskin-cloak again; And slipt in unseen by the cook, Who little thought where she had been. But not by my lord unseen, For this time he follow'd too fast; |