Explore "Sweets for Leisure Hours" by E. Phillips on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
Tumble down, tumble up, never mind it, my sweet, / No, no, never beat the poor ground; / 'Twas your fault you could not stand straight on your feet, / Fall you will, if you twirl yourself round.
Oh dear! what a noise:will a noise make it well? / Will crying wash bruises away? / Suppose that it should bleed a little, and swell, / 'Twill all be gone down in a day.