"It won't be my fault if I die an Old Maid"

My mother pretends for a wife I'm too young,

and says that men will deceive me.

But let her look back, she'll soon hold her tongue;

if not, 'tis no matter, believe me.

Sweet gentlemen, don't be a moment in fear,

and suffer a damsel to keep singing here,

remember a thought to no girl is so dread,

as the terrible one--that she may die an old maid.

Mother preaches forever against men, the vile sex,

and says every look is alarming,

but, between you and I, this she says only to vex,

for I know that she thinks you all charming.

Three husbands she has had in the course of her life,

now I only want one, sir, "Pray who'll have a good wife?"

Now men don't be stupid and look half-afraid!

Speak boldly, or else I must die an old maid.

Men boast they are kind, and easily had,

and lovers are willing and plenty,

I vow it is false, for I've not got a lad,

although I'm turned one-and-twenty.

The man I love best now stands in full view--

don't look so sharp, sir! I did not mean you,

but that handsome man there--O, what have I said,

but it won't be my fault if I die an old maid.

- The Quaver; or, Songster's Pocket Companion:

containing upwards of One Thousand of the most popular Songs, Toasts, Sentiments, and Recitations