A pretty young maiden sat on the grass--
Sing heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho!--
And by a blithe young shepherd did pass,
In the summer morning so early.
Said he, "My lass, will you go with me,
My cot to keep and my bride to be;
Sorrow and want shall never touch thee,
And I will love you rarely?"
"O! no, no, no!" the maiden said--
Sing heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho!--
And bashfully turn'd aside her head,
On that summer morning so early.
"My mother is old, my mother is frail,
Our cottage it lies in yon green dale;
I dare not list to any such tale,
For I love my kind mother rarely."
The shepherd took her lily-white hand--
Sing heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho!--
And on her beauty did gazing stand,
On that summer morning so early.
"Thy mother I ask thee not to leave
Alone in her frail old age to grieve;
But my home can hold us all, believe--
Will that not please thee fairly?"
"O! no, no, no! I am all too young"--
Sing heigh-ho! sing heigh-ho!--
"I dare not list to a young man's tongue,
On a summer morning so early."
But the shepherd to gain her heart was bent;
Oft she strove to go, but she never went;
And at length she fondly blush'd consent--
Heaven blesses true lovers so fairly.