Go, Pretty Child, And Bear This Flower Unto Thy Little Saviour; And Tell Him, By That Bud Now Blown, He Is The Rose Of Sharon Known. When Thou Hast Said So, Stick It There Upon His Bib Or Stomacher; And Tell Him, For Good Handsel Too, That Thou Hast Brought A Whistle New, Made Of A Clean Straight Oaten Reed, To Charm His Cries At Time Of Need; Tell Him, For Coral, Thou Hast None, But If Thou Hadst, He Should Have One; But Poor Thou Art, And Known To Be Even As Moneyless As He. Lastly, If Thou Canst Win A Kiss From Those Mellifluous Lips Of His; Then Never Take A Second On, To Spoil The First Impression.