A Political Love Song

Mr Watt says that while it is not sinful to flirt with electors, it is a mistake to do so openly.

I love you, dear, o' morn and noon;
    I dream of you, sweetheart, by night;
Lest'ning that you may grant a boon
    And put my nervous fears to flight.

I love your face and form, my dear;
    Upon your dulcet voice I dote;
Its tender tones I love to hear—
    (But, most of all, I love your vote!)

Fain would I take you in my arms,
    And whisper in your shell-pink ear
Sweet words concerning all your
    charms.
    And yet, my sweet, I fear—I fear.

(I fear that should I seek to woo
    Too ardently, you might discover
It is your vote I want; not you,
    And know me for a faithless lover.)

And so I have, with look and sign,
    To woo you in a style discreet
(Oh, that your vote were surely mine!
    My dear, I'd cast you in the street!)

The pouting lip, the downcast eye,
    The fluttering touch of hand in
        hand—
With such coy intimations I
    Seek, dear, to make you understand.

For in this game of politics
    This cave-man stuff is out of date,
And so I seek, by divers tricks,
    To win you ere it be too late.

For, be you lean, or be you fat,
    You have a sovereign antidote—
My darling! What care I for that?
    (You have a vote! You have a vote!)

I love you, dear! Think not neglect
    My seeming coldness could denote,
(Or, rather, to be quite correct,
    I love your vote, your precious vote!)

I love you, dear, o' morn and noon!
    See my coy glance cast to the floor,
(I hope elections come quite soon—
    I'll turn you out and bolt the door.)