The Sensitive Hunter

I hunt, and toil, and chase alway,
But others always catch the prey.

No favour at my sweetheart's hand could I obtain,
Until a crude rogue began to woe my love again
As I had done: Whom she disdained and could not him abide,
But from him fled, to hide her head, whenever she him spied.

That was the time I learned my trade
On how properly to be a hunter and guide,
Then the dear one that others craved,
Came and sat down gently by my side.

The lout who tries to woo his love
Will ever fear the same,
For empty-handed a rogue will be
While others catch the game.

Use the bait of sensitivity and affection
when a lover is your quarry.