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THE LADIES OF ST. JAMES'S.
A PROPER NEW BALLAD OF THE COUNTRY AND THE TOWN.
The ladies of St. James's
But Phyllida, my Phyllida! Go swinging to the play;
The breath of heath and furze, Their footmen run before them,
When breezes blow at morning, With a "Stand by! Clear the way!"
Is scarce so fresh as hers. But Phyllida, my Phyllida!
The ladies of St. She takes her buck
James's, led shoon,
They're painted to When we go out a
the eyes; courting
Their white it stays Beneath the harvest
Their red it never
dies; The ladies of St.
But Phyllida, my PhylJames's
lida! Wear satin on their
Her color comes backs;
and goes; They sit all night at
It trembles to a Oinbre,
lily, With candles all of
It wavers to a rose. wax; But Phyllida, my Phyllida!
The ladies of St. She dons her russet
With “Mercy!" and And runs to gather
with “Lud!” May dew
They season all their Before the world is
(They come of noble BEFORE THE WORLD IS DOWN."
blood); The ladies of St. James's,
But Phyllida, my Phyllida ! They are so fine and fair
Her shy and simple words You'd think a box of essences
Are sweet as, after rain-drops, Was broken in the air;
The music of the birds.