Youbidmetry dobson jag
You bid me try, blue eyes, To write a rondo? What, forthwith? To-night? Reflect, some skill I have't is true, But thirteen lines, and rhymed on two. Refrain is well, Ah, hapless plight. Still, there are five lines, ranged aright. These gallic bonds I feared would fright my easy muse. They did, till you, you bid me try. That makes them eight, the ports in sight. Tis all because your eyes are bright. Now, just a pair to end in ooh. When maids
command, What can't we do? Behold, the rondo, Tasteful, light, you bid me try.
