He, however, rendered the air with a great deal of feeling, and his eye rested on Mrs.Worse as he sang-- "Maiden, oh list! With those sweet winning glances, Thy looks nought but goodness and kindness betide! Oh, couldst thou but smile on my timid advances! Say, wilt thou be thine own knife-grinder's bride ?" Mrs.Worse beat time with her knitting as she joined in the chorus-- "Whirr! whirr! Blithely we go.

Never say no! My foot's on the treadle, which rocks to and fro!".