Pretty Maiden! Pretty Maiden!

Pretty maiden! pretty maiden!
Heavily is Tsing-Ti laden
With one love, and three-score woes.
Sweeter than the herb Yu-lu,
Or the flowering Lan, are you . .
What long eyes! and what small nose!.
Pretty maiden! pretty maiden!
Sands that your short feet have stray'd on
Turn to musk or ambergrise:
Every other girl's seem longer,
Ay, and darker, than a conger,
And they only make me sneeze.
Pretty maiden! pretty maiden!
All the verses ever laid on
Beauty's tea-tray, would fall short
Of your manifold perfection . .
And alas my recollection
Can perform but little for't 1

Pretty maiden! pretty maiden!
Sadly do I want your aid in
Summing up amount so rich:
But if any little tiling;
Should escape your sigh-sore Tsing
Call him back, and show him which.