“Up, up, my friend, and quit your books! Outside the sun is shining..”/ and if thou get not off thy butt/ alone thou’ll be, a-pining !/// Milady’s patience nears its end-/ thy chances are a-dwindling !/ The very books that grip thee now/ by Winter will be kindling./// But if thou rise to save this day/ thou shalt, on some cold morrow/ preserve thy books/ and body heat/ from soft Milady borrow ! ///“Up, up, my friend, and quit your books” !/ Waste not another second ! / methinks she’s seen another swain/ who through thy window beckoned !/ He lurketh down the garden path/ behind yon old elm tree !/ I’m giving thee this final call / that other swain is – me !
“Up, up, my friend, and quit your books! Outside the sun is shining..”/ and if thou get not off thy butt/ alone thou’ll be, a-pining !/// Milady’s patience nears its end-/ thy chances are a-dwindling !/ The very books that grip thee now/ by Winter will be kindling./// But if thou rise to save this day/ thou shalt, on some cold morrow/ preserve thy books/ and body heat/ from soft Milady borrow ! ///“Up, up, my friend, and quit your books” !/ Waste not another second ! / methinks she’s seen another swain/ who through thy window beckoned !/ He lurketh down the garden path/ behind yon old elm tree !/ I’m giving thee this final call / that other swain is – me !