Celemene, pray tell me Celemene,
When those pretty eyes I see; 
When my heart beats in my breast,
Why it will not let me rest?
Why this trembling too all o'er, 
Pains I never felt before.
And when thus I touch your hand,
Why I wish I was a man?
How should I know more than you?
Yet would be a woman too, 
When you wash yourself and play,
I methinks could look all day.
Nay just now I'm pleas'd so well, 
Should you kiss me I won't tell.

Tho' I could do that all day,
And desire no better play;
Sure in love there's something more,
Which makes Mamma so big before.
Once by chance I heard it named;
Don't ask what, for I'm ashamed.
Stay but till you're past fifteen,
Then you'll know what 'tis I mean.
However lose not present bliss;
But now we're alone let's kiss.
My breasts do so heave.
My heart does so pant.
There's something more we want.