Youbidmetry dobson rn
You bid me try, Blue eyes, to write a rondo, What forthwith tonight, Reflect some skill I have, Tis true, But thirteen lines, And rhymed on two, Refrain as well, Our hapless plight. Still, there are five lines, Ranged aright, These gallic bonds I feared would fright, My easy news, 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 rule, When maids command, What can't we do? Behold, the rondo, Tasteful, light, You bid me try.
