Published in The Musical Entertainer, London 1740.

Lyrics: Anon

As Celadon once from his cottage did stray,
To court his dear Jug on a hillock of hay,
What awkward confusion oppress'd the poor swain,
When thus he deliver'd his passion in pain:

"O joy of my heart, and delight of my eyes,
Sweet Jug 'tis for thee faithful Celadon dies:
My pipe I've forgotten, tho' reckoned so sweet,
And sleeping and waking, thy name I repeat.

"When swains to an ale-house by force me do lug,
Instead of a pitcher I call for a jug;
And sure, you can't chide at repearing your name,
When the nightingale ev'ry night does the same."

Sweet Jug, he a hundred times o'er does repeat,
Which makes people say that his voice is so sweet.
Ah! why dost thou laugh at my sorrowful tale?
Too well I'm assur'd that my words won't prevail.

For Roger the thatcher possesses thy breast,
As he at our last harvest supper confess'd;
"I own it," says Jug, "he has gotten my heart;
His long curling hair looks so pretty and smart.

"His eyes are so black and his cheeks are so red,
They prevail more with me than all you have said;
Though you court me and kiss me and do what you can
'Twill signify nothing, for Roger's the man."