T'other day as I sate in the Sycamore Shade
young Damon came whistling along.
I trembled, I blush'd a poor innocent maid
and my heart caper'd up to my tongue.
Silly heart, I cried, fie what a flutter is here,
Young Damon designs you no ill.
The Sheperd's so civil you've nothing to fear
then prithee fond urchin, lie still.

Sly Damon drew near, and knelt down at my feet,
One kiss he demanded, demanded no more.
But urg'd the soft pressure with ardour so sweet,
I could not refuse him a score,
My lambkins I've kiss'd and no change ever found, 
As often we've played on the hill.
But Damon's dear lips make my heart gallop round
nor would the fond urchin be still.

When flames the bright sun to the Sycamore Shade,
For shelter, for shelter I'm sure to repair,
And Virgins in faith, I'm no longer afraid,
although the dear Shepherd be there
As ev'ry fond kiss that the freedom he takes,
My heart may rebound if it will.
There's something so sweet in the bustle it makes
I'll die ere I bid it be still.