Blind Mans Buff

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When silver snow decks Susan's clothes,
     And jewel hangs at th' shepherd's nose,
     The blushing bank is all my care,
     With hearth so red, and walls so fair;
     `Heap the sea-coal, come, heap it higher,
     The oaken log lay on the fire.'
     The well-wash'd stools, a circling row,
     With lad and lass, how fair the show!
     The merry can of nut-brown ale,
     The laughing jest, the love-sick tale,
     Till, tir'd of chat, the game begins.
     The lasses prick the lads with pins;
     Roger from Dolly twitch'd the stool,
     She, falling, kiss'd the ground, poor fool!
     She blush'd so red, with sidelong glance
     At hob-nail Dick, who griev'd the chance.
     But now for Blind man's Buff they call;
     Of each encumbrance clear the hall——
     Jenny her silken 'kerchief folds,
     And blear-eyed Will the black lot holds.
     Now laughing stops, with `Silence! hush!'
     And Peggy Pout gives Sam a push.
     The Blind man's arms, extended wide,
     Sam slips between:——`O woe betide
     Thee, clumsy Will!'——but titt'ring Kate
     Is penn'd up in the corner straight!
     And now Will's eyes beheld the play;
     He thought his face was t'other way.
     `Now, Kitty, now! what chance hast thou,
     Roger so near thee!——Trips, I vow!'
     She catches him——then Roger ties
     His own head up——but not his eyes;
     For thro' the slender cloth he sees,
     And runs at Sam, who slips with ease
     His clumsy hold; and, dodging round,
     Sukey is tumbled on the ground!——
     `See what it is to play unfair!
     Where cheating is, there's mischief there.'
     But Roger still pursues the chase,——
     `He sees! he sees!' cries, softly, Grace;
     `O Roger, thou, unskill'd in art,
     Must, surer bound, go thro' thy part!'
     Now Kitty, pert, repeats the rimes,
     And Roger turns him round three times,
     Then pauses ere he starts——but Dick
     Was mischief bent upon a trick;
     Down on his hands and knees he lay
     Directly in the Blind man's way,
     Then cries out `Hem!' Hodge heard, and ran
     With hood-wink'd chance——sure of his man;
     But down he came. —— Alas, how frail
     Our best of hopes, how soon they fail!
     With crimson drops he stains the ground;
     Confusion startles all around.
     Poor piteous Dick supports his head,
     And fain would cure the hurt he made.
     But Kitty hasted with a key,
     And down his back they straight convey
     The cold relief; the blood is stay'd,
     And Hodge again holds up his head.
     Such are the fortunes of the game,
     And those who play should stop the same
     By wholesome laws; such as all those
     Who on the blinded man impose
     Stand in his stead; as, long a-gone,
     When men were first a nation grown,
     Lawless they liv'd, till wantonness
     And liberty began t' increase,
     And one man lay in another's way;
     Then laws were made to keep fair play.