And without a word of leave,
From her father's house she fled secretlie,
In male attire dress'd,
With a star upon her breast,
All to seek her simple Ploughboy on the sea.
4
Then she went o'er hill and plain,
And she walked in wind and rain,
Till she came to the brink of the blue sea.
Saying, "I am forced to rove,
For the loss of my true love,
Who is but a simple Ploughboy from the lea."
5[19]
Now the first she did behold,
O it was a sailor bold,
"Have you seen my simple ploughboy?" then said she.
"They have press'd him to the fleet,
Sent him tossing on the deep,
Who is but a simple Ploughboy from the lea."
6
Then she went to the Captain,
And to him she made complain,
"O a silly Ploughboy's run away from me!"
Then the Captain smiled and said,
"Why Sir! surely you're a maid!
So the Ploughboy I will render up to thee."
7
Then she pullèd out a store,
Of five hundred crowns and more,
And she strewed them on the deck, did she,
Then she took him by the hand,
And she rowed him to the land,
Where she wed the simple Ploughboy back from sea.
[Footnote 19: May be omitted in singing.]
No. 60 FAIR LADY, PITY ME
C.J.S.
[Music]
1
Dear love, regard my grief,
Do not my suit disdain;
O yield me some relief,
That am with sorrows slain.
Pity my grievous pain
Long suffer'd for thy sake,
Do not my suit disdain
No time I rest can take.
These seven long years and more
Still have I loved thee;
Do thou my joys restore
Fair lady, pity me.
2
While that I live I love
So fancy urgeth me;
My mind can not remove
Such is my constancy.
My mind is nobly bent
Tho' I'm of low degree;
Sweet lady, give consent
To love and pity me.
These seven long years and more
Still have I loved thee;
Do thou my joys restore
Fair lady, pity me.
No. 61 THE PAINFUL PLOUGH
H.F.S.
[Music]
1
O Adam was a ploughboy, when ploughing first begun,
The next that did succeed him was Cain, his eldest son;
Some of the generation the calling still pursue,
That bread may not be wanting, they labour at the plough.
2
Samson was the strongest man, and Solomon was wise,
And Alexander conquering, he made the world his prize,
King David was a valiant man, and many thousands slew,
Yet none of all these heroes bold could live without the plough.
3
Behold the wealthy merchant, that trades on foreign seas,
And brings home gold and treasure, for such as live at ease,
With spices and with cinnamon, and oranges also,
They're brought us from the Indies, by virtue of the plough.
4
I hope there's none offended at me for singing this,
For never I intended to sing you ought amiss.
And if you well consider, you'll find the saying true,
That all mankind dependeth upon the painful plough.
No. 62 AT THE SETTING OF THE SUN
C.J.S.
[Music]
1
Come all you young fellows that carry a gun,
Beware of late shooting when daylight is done;
For 'tis little you reckon what hazards you run,
I shot my true love at the setting of the sun
In a shower of rain as my darling did hie
All under the bushes to keep herself dry,
With her head in her apron I thought her a swan,
And I shot my true love at the setting of the sun.
2
I'll fly from my country, I nowhere find rest
I've shot my true love, like a bird in her nest.
Like lead on my heart lies the deed I have done,
I shot my true love at the setting of the sun.
In a shower, etc.
3
In the night the fair maid as a white swan appears,
She says, O my true love, quick dry up your tears,
I freely forgive you, I have Paradise won,
I was shot by my love at the setting of the sun.
In a shower, etc.
4
O the years as they pass leave me lonely and sad,
I can ne'er love another, and naught makes me glad.
I wait and expect till life's little span done
I meet my true love at the rising of the sun
In a shower, etc.
No. 63 JOLLY FELLOWS THAT FOLLOW THE PLOUGH
C.J.S.
[Music]
1
'Twas early one morning at breaking of day,
The cocks were a crowing, the farmer did say,
Come, arise, my good fellows, arise with good will,
For your horses want something their bellies to fill.
With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,
That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.
2
We jump'd out of bed and slipp'd into our clothes,
Away to the stable each merrily goes.
When six o'clock cometh, to breakfast we go,
To good bread and cheese and the best of stingo.
With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,
That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.
3
When seven o'clock soundeth to work we do go,
We hitch up our horses and halloo Wee Woo!
At eight o' clock, lads, we are merry and bold,
To see of us which the best furrow can hold.
With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,
That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.
4
The farmer came to us, and thus did he say,
"What have you been doing lads, all the long day?
You've not ploughed your acre, I swear and I vow,
You are all lazy fellows that follow the plough."
With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,
That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.
5
The carter turns round with a twinkling eye,
"We have all ploughed our acre, I tell you no lie,
We have all ploughed our acre, I swear and I vow,
So we're the right fellows that follow the plough."
With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,
That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.
6
The farmer he laughed for he lovèd a joke
"It is past two o'clock, boys, 'tis time to unyoke.
Unharness your horses and rub them down well,
And so I will give you a jug of brown ale."
With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,
That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.
7
So, all my fine fellows, wherever you be,
Come take my advice and be rulèd by me.
Draw your furrows aright; plough your acre and know
That such are the fellows to follow the plough.
With rubbing and scrubbing, I swear and I vow,
That we're all jolly fellows that follow the plough.
No. 64 THE GOLDEN VANITY
C.J.S.
[Music]
1
A ship I have got in the North Country
And she goes by the name of the Golden Vanity,
O I fear she'll be taken by a Spanish Ga-la-lie,
As she sails by the Low-lands low.
2
To the Captain then upspake the little Cabin-boy,
He said, What is my fee, if the galley I destroy?
The Spanish Ga-la-lie, if no more it shall annoy,
As you sail by the Low-lands low.
3
Of silver and gold I will give to you a store;
And my pretty little daughter that dwelleth on the shore,
Of treasure and of fee as well, I'll give to thee galore,
As we sail by the Low-lands low.
4
Then the boy bared his breast, and straightway leaped in,
And he held all in his hand, an augur sharp and thin,
And he swam until he came to the Spanish galleon,
As she lay by the Low-lands low.
5
He bored with the augur, he bored once and twice,
And some were playing cards, and some were playing dice,
When the water flowed in it dazzled their eyes,
And she sank by the Low-lands low.
6[20]
So the Cabin-boy did swim all to the larboard side,
Saying Captain! take me in, I am drifting with the tide!
I will shoot you! I will kill you! the cruel Captain cried,
You may sink by the Low-lands low.
7
Then the Cabin-boy did swim all to the starboard side
Saying, Messmates take me in, I am drifting with the tide!
Then they laid him on the deck, and he closed his eyes and died,
As they sailed by the Low-lands low.
8[21]
They sewed his body up, all in an old cow's hide,
And they cast the gallant cabin-boy, over the ship's side,
And left him without more ado adrifting with the tide,
And to sink by the Low-lands low.
[Footnote 20: May be omitted in singing.]
[Footnote 21: May be omitted in singing.]
No. 65 THE BOLD DRAGOON
H.F.S.
[Music]
1
A bold dragoon from out of the North,
To a lady's house came riding;
With clank of steel, and spur at his heel,
His consequence noways hiding.
"Bring forth good cheer, tap claret and beer,
For here I think of abiding,
Abiding, Abiding.
2
"The chamber best with arras be dress'd
I intend to be comfortable.
Such troopers as we always make ourselves free,
Heigh!--lead my horse to the stable!
Give him corn and hay, but for me Tockay,
We'll eat and drink whilst able,
Able, aye! Able.
3
"The daintiest meat upon silver plate,
And wine that sparkles and fizzes.
Wax candles light, make the chamber bright,
And--as soldiers love sweet Misses,
My moustache I curl with an extra twirl,
The better to give you kisses,
Kisses, aye! Kisses."
4
"There's cake and wine," said the lady fine,
"There's oats for the horse, and litter.
There's silver plate, there are servants to wait,
And drinks, sweet, sparkling, bitter.
Tho, bacon and pease, aye! and mouldy cheese,
For such as you were fitter,
Fitter aye! Fitter.
5
"Your distance keep, I esteem you cheap
Tho' your wishes I've granted, partly.
But no kisses for me from a Chimpanzee,"
The lady responded tartly.
"Why! a rude dragoon is a mere Baboon."
And she boxed his ears full smartly,
Smartly, aye! smartly.
No. 66 TRINITY SUNDAY
H.F.S.
[Music]
1
When bites the frost and winds are a blowing,
I do not heed, I do not care;
If Johnny's by me, what if it be snowing.
'Tis summer time with me all the year.
2
The icicles they may hang on the fountain,
And frozen over the farm yard pool.
The bleak wind whistle across the mountain,
No wintry blast our love can cool.
3
O what to me the wind and the weather?
O what to me the wind and the rain?
My Johnny loves me, and being together,
Why let it bluster--it blows in vain.
4
I never tire, I never am weary,
I drudge and think it is only play;
As Johnny loves me, and I am his deary,
Why--all the year it is holiday.
5
I shall be wed upon Trinity Sunday,
And then adieu to my holiday.
Come frost and frown the following Monday.
Why then beginneth my workaday.
6
If drudge and smudge begins on the Monday,
If scold and grumble--I do not care,
My winter follow Trinity Sunday.
I can't have summertime all the year.
No. 67 THE BLUE FLAME
C.J.S.
[Music]
1
All under the stars, and beneath the green tree,
All over the sward, and along the cold lea,
A little blue flame
A fluttering came,
It came from the churchyard for you or for me.
2
I sit by the cradle, my baby's asleep,
And rocking the cradle, I wonder and weep.
O little blue light,
In the dead of the night,
O prithee, O prithee no nearer to creep.
3
Why follow the church path, why steal you this way?
Why halt in your journey, on threshold why stay?
With flicker and flare,
Why dance up my stair!
O I would, O I would, it were dawning of day.
4
All under the stars, and along the green lane,
Unslaked by the dew, and unquenched by the rain,
Of little flames blue
To the churchyard steal two,
The soul of my baby! now from me is ta'en.
No. 68 STRAWBERRY FAIR
H.F.S.
[Music]
1
As I was going to Strawberry Fair,
Singing, singing, Butter-cups and Daisies
I met a maiden taking her ware,
Fol-de-dee!
Her eyes were blue and golden her hair,
As she went on to Strawberry Fair,
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-li-do,
Ri-fol, Ri-fol, Tol-de-riddle-dee.
2
"Kind Sir, pray pick of my basket!" she said,
Singing, &c.
"My cherries ripe, or my roses red,
Fol-de-dee!
My strawberries sweet, I can of them spare,
As I go on to Strawberry Fair."
Ri-fol &c.
3
Your cherries soon will be wasted away,
Singing, &c.
Your roses wither and never stay,
Tol-de-dee!
'Tis not to seek such perishing ware,
That I am tramping to Strawberry Fair.
Ri-fol &c.
4
I want to purchase a generous heart,
Singing, &c.
A tongue that neither is nimble nor tart.
Tol-de-dee!
An honest mind, but such trifles are rare
I doubt if they're found at Strawberry Fair.
Ri-fol &c.
5
The price I offer, my sweet pretty maid
Singing, &c.
A ring of gold on your finger displayed,
Tol-de-dee!
So come make over to me your ware,
In church today at Strawberry Fair.
Ri-fol &c.
No. 69 THE COUNTRY FARMER'S SON
H.F.S.
[Music]
1
I would not be a monarch great;
With crown upon my head,
And Earls to wait upon my state,
In broidered robes of red.
For he must bear full many a care,
His toil is never done,
'Tis better I trow behind the plough,
A Country Farmer's Son.
2[22]
I would not be the Pope of Rome,
And sit in Peter's chair;
With priests to bow and kiss my toe,
No wife my throne to share.
And never know what 'tis to go,
With beagles for a run;
'Tis better for me at liberty
A Country Farmer's Son.
3
I would not be a merchant rich,
And eat off silver plate.
And ever dread, when laid abed
Some freakish turn of fate.
One day on high, then ruin nigh,
Now wealthy, now undone,
'Tis better for me at ease to be
A Country Farmer's Son.
4
I trudge about the farm, all day,
To know that all things thrive.
A maid I see that pleaseth me,
Why then I'm fain to wive.
Not over rich, I do not itch,
For wealth, but what is won,
By honest toil, from out the soil,
A Country Farmer's Son.
[Footnote 22: May be omitted in singing.]
No. 70 THE HOSTESS' DAUGHTER
H.F.S.
[Music]
1
The Hostess of the Ring of Bells
A daughter hath with auburn hair;
Go where I will, o'er plain and hill,
I do not find a maid more fair;
She welcomes me with dimpled smiles,
And e'en a kiss will not deny
O! would for us the bells did ring!
And we were wed--that maid and I!
2
But as I travelled down the road,
There went by me a packer-train;
'Twas Roger Rawle, and Sandy Paul,
And Hunchback Joe, and Philip Mayne.
Says Roger, I have had a kiss,
From that sly maiden at the Bell,
And I, said Joe, and Paul said so,
And so did Philip Mayne as well.
3
Till weather-beaten as the sign
That doth before the tavern swing,
That maid will stay, and none essay,
To make her his with bell and ring.
Methinks I'll take another road,
Where hap some modest maiden dwells,
No saucy miss, with ready kiss,
And then for us shall ring the Bells.
No. 71 THE JOLLY GOSS-HAWK
H.F.S.
[Music]
1
I sat on a bank in trifle and play,
With my jolly goss-hawk, and her wings were grey;
She flew to my breast, And she there built her nest,
I am sure pretty bird you with me will stay.
2
She builded within, and she builded without,
My jolly goss-hawk, and her wings were grey;
She fluttered her wings, And she jingled her rings,
So merry was she, and so fond of play.
3
I got me a bell, to tie to her foot,
My jolly goss-hawk, and her wings were grey;
She mounted in flight, And she flew out of sight,
My bell and my rings she carried away.
4
I ran up the street, with nimblest feet,
My jolly goss-hawk, and her wings were grey;
I whooped and hallo'd, But never she shewed,
And I lost my pretty goss-hawk that day.
5
In a meadow so green, the hedges between,
My jolly goss-hawk, and her wings were grey;
Upon a man's hand, She perch'd did stand,
In sport, and trifle, and full array.
6
Who's got her may keep her as best he can,
My jolly goss-hawk, and her wings were grey;
To every man she is frolic and free,
I'll cast her off if she come my way.
No. 72 THE SONG OF THE MOOR
C.J.S.
[Music]
1
'Tis merry in the Spring-time
'Tis blithe upon the moor,
Where every man is equal,
For every man is poor.
I do what I've a mind to,
And none can say me Nay,
I go where I'm inclin'd to,
On all sides right of way.
O the merry Dartamoor!
O the merry moor!
I would not be where I'm not free,
As I am upon the moor.
2
'Tis merry in the Summer,
When furze is out and sweet,
The bees about it humming,
In honey bathe their feet.
The plover and the peewit
How cheerily they pipe,
And underfoot the whortle
Is waxing blue and ripe.
O the merry &c.
3
'Tis merry in the Fall-time
When snipe and cock appear,
And never see a keeper
To say, No shooting here!
The turf we stock for fuel
And ask no better fire,
And never pay a farthing,
For all that we require.
O the merry &c.
4
'Tis merry in the Winter
The wind is on the moor,
For twenty miles to leeward
The people hear the roar.
'Tis merry in the ingle
Beside a Moorland lass,
When watching turves a-glowing,
The brimming bumpers pass.
O the merry &c.
No. 73 ON A MAY MORNING SO EARLY
C.J.S.
[Music]
1
As I walked out one May morning,
One May morning so early;
I there espied a fair pretty maid,
All on the dew so pearly.
O! 'twas sweet, sweet spring,
Merry birds did sing,
All in the morning early.
2
Stay, fair one, stay! Thus did I say,
On a May morning so early;
My tale of love, your heart will move,
All on the dew so pearly.
O! 'tis sweet, sweet spring,
Merry birds do sing,
All in the morning early.
3
No tales for me, Kind sir, said she
On a May morning so early;
My swain is true, I don't want two
All on the dew so pearly.
O! 'twas sweet, sweet spring,
Merry birds did sing,
All in the morning early.
4
With lightsome tread, away she sped,
This May morning so early;
To meet her lad, and left me sad,
All on the dew so pearly.
O! 'twas sweet, sweet spring,
Merry birds did sing,
All in the morning early.
No. 74 THE SPOTTED COW
H.F.S.
[Music]
1
One morning so gay, in the glad month of May,
When I from my cottage strayed;
As broke the ray of awakening day,
I met a pretty maid.
A neat little lass on the twinkling grass,
To see, my foot I stayed.
2
"My fair pretty maid, why wander?" I said,
"So early, tell me now?"
The maid replied, "Pretty Sir!" and sighed,
"I've lost my Spotted Cow.
She's stolen," she said, many tears she shed,
"Or lost, I can't tell how."
3
"No further complain in dolorous strain,
I've tidings will you cheer.
I know she's strayed, in yonder green glade,
Come, love! I'll shew you where.
So dry up your tears and banish fears,
And bid begone despair."
4
"I truly confess in my bitter distress,
You are most good," said she.
"With help so kind, I am certain to find
My cow, so I'll with thee.
Four eyes, it is true, are better than two,
And friend, four eyes have we."
5
Through meadow and grove, we together did rove,
We crossed the flow'ry dale,
Both morn and noon, we strayed till the moon
Above our heads did sail.
The old Spotted Cow, clean forgotten was now,
For love was all our tale.
6
Now never a day, do I go my way,
To handle flail or plough.
She comes again, and whispers, "Sweet swain,
I've lost my Spotted Cow."
I pretend not to hear, she shouts, "My dear,
I've lost my Spotted Cow."
No. 75 THREE JOVIAL WELSHMEN
C.J.S.
[Music]
1
There were three jovial Welshmen
They would go hunt the fox.
They swore they saw old Reynard
Run over yonder rocks;
With a whoop, whoop, whoop and a hel-lo,
And a blast of my bugle horn;
With my twank, twank, twank and my twank-i-diddle O,
And thro' the woods we'll ride, brave boys,
And thro' the woods we'll ride.
With my bugle, bugle, bugle,
And a blast of my bugle horn;
With my fal-lal-lal and my fal-de-riddle O,
And thro' the woods we'll ride, brave boys,
And thro' the woods we'll ride.
2
The first they espied was a woman,
A combing up her locks.
She swore she saw old Reynard
Among the geese and ducks.
With a &c.
3
The second he was a Parson,
And he was dressed in black,
He swore he saw old Reynard
Hang on a huntsman's back.
With a &c.
4
The third he was a Miller
Was grinding at his mill,
He swore he saw old Reynard
Run over yonder hill.
With a &c.
5
The fourth he was a blind man,
As blind as blind could be,
He swore he saw old Reynard
Run up a hollow tree.
With a &c.
6
There never was a Reynard
Run out that day at all,
'Twas naught but one grey pussy
Sat purring on a wall.
With a &c.
7
O what a world of liars
This is, as well appears.
Henceforth I'll trust my own eyes,
And none but mine own ears.
With a &c.
No. 76 WELL MET! WELL MET
C.J.S.
[Music]
1
Well met, well met, my own true love!
Long time am I seeking of thee.
I am lately come from the salt, salt wave,
And all for the sake, sweet love, of thee.
2
I might have had a king's daughter,
She fain would have married me,
But I did not hold for her crown of gold,
And all for the sake, sweet love, of thee.
3
I have seven ships that sail on the sea,
It was one brought me to the land;
I have mariners many to wait on thee
To be all, sweet love, at thy command.
4
A pair of slippers, love, thou shalt have,
They are made of the beaten gold,
They are lined within with a coney's skin,
To keep thy feet, sweet love, from cold.
5
A gilded boat thou too shalt have,
And the oars be gilded also,
And the mariners they shall pipe and sing
As through the salt waves, sweet love, we go.
6
A way of gold lies over the sea
Where the sun doth set in the west.
And along that way thou shalt sail with me,
To the land of lands, sweet love, that's best.
No. 77 POOR OLD HORSE
C.J.S.
[Music]
1
O once I lay in stable, a hunter, well and warm,
I had the best of shelter, from cold and rain and harm;
But now in open meadow, a hedge I'm glad to find,
To shield my sides from tempest, from driving sleet and wind.
Poor old horse, let him die!
2
My shoulders once were sturdy, were glossy, smooth and round,
But now, alas! they're rotten, I'm not accounted sound.
As I have grown so aged, my teeth gone to decay,
My master frowns upon me; I often hear him say,
Poor old horse, let him die!
3[23]
A groom upon me waited, on straw I snugly lay,
When fields were full of flowers, the air was sweet with hay;
But now there's no good feeding prepared for me at all,
I'm forced to munch the nettles upon the kennel wall.
Poor old horse, let him die!
4
My shoes and skin, the huntsman, that covets them shall have,
My flesh and bones the hounds, Sir! I very freely give,
I've followed them full often, aye! many a score of miles,
O'er hedges, walls and ditches, nor blinked at gates and stiles.
Poor old horse, let him die!
5
Ye gentlemen of England, ye sportsmen good and bold,
All you that love a hunter, remember him when old,
O put him in your stable, and make the old boy warm,
And visit him and pat him, and keep him out of harm,
Poor old horse, till he die!
[Footnote 23: May be omitted in singing.]
No. 78 THE DILLY SONG
C.J.S.
[Music]
1
Come, and I will sing you.
What will you sing me?
I will sing you One, O!
What is your One, O?
One of them is all alone, and ever will remain so.
2
Come, and I will sing you.
What will you sing me?
I will sing you Two, O!
What is your Two, O?
Two of them are lily-white babes, and dress'd all in green, O.
3
Come, &c.
I will sing you Three, O!
What is your Three, O?
Three of them are strangers, o'er the wide world they are rangers.
4
Come, &c.
I will sing you Four, O!
What is your Four, O?
Four it is the Dilly Hour, when blooms the gilly flower.
5
Come, &c.
I will sing you Five, O!
What is your Five, O?
Five it is the Dilly Bird, that's never seen, but heard, O!
6
Come, &c.
I will sing you Six, O!
What is your Six, O?
Six the Ferryman in the Boat, that doth on the river float, O!
7
Come, &c.
I will sing you Seven, O!
What is your Seven, O?
Seven it is the crown of Heaven, the shining stars be seven, O!
8
Come, &c.
I will sing you Eight, O!
What is your Eight, O?
Eight it is the morning break, when all the world's awake, O!
9
Come, &c.
I will sing you Nine, O!
What is your Nine, O?
Nine it is the pale moonshine, the pale moonlight is nine, O!
10
Come, &c.
I will sing you Ten, O!
What is your Ten, O?
Ten forbids all kind of sin, from ten again begin, O!
No. 79 A COUNTRY DANCE
C.J.S.
[Music]
1
When lambkins skip, and apples are growing,
Grass is green, and roses ablow,
When pigeons coo, and cattle are lowing,
Mist lies white in valleys below,
Why should we be all the day toiling?
Lads and lasses, along with me!
Done with drudgery, dust and moiling
Haste away to the green-wood tree.
2
The cows are milked, the team's in the stable,
Work is over, and play begun,
Ye farmer lads all lusty and able,
Ere the moon rises, we'll have our fun,
Why should we, &c.
3[24]
The glow-worm lights, as day is afailing,
Dew is falling over the field,
The meadow-sweet its scent is exhaling,
Honeysuckles their fragrance yield.
Why should we, &c.
4
There's Jack o'lantern lustily dancing
In the marsh with flickering flame,
And Daddy-long-legs, spinning and prancing,
Moth and midge are doing the same,
Why should we, &c.
5
So Bet and Prue, and Dolly and Celie,
With milking pail 'tis time to have done.
And Ralph and Phil, and Robin and Willie,
The threshing flail must sleep with the sun.
Why should we, &c.
6
Upon the green beginneth our pleasure,
Whilst we dance we merrily sing.
A country dance, a jig, and a measure,
Hand in hand we go in a ring.
Why should we, &c.
7
O sweet it is to foot on the clover,
Ended work and revel begun.
Aloft the planets never give over,
Dancing, circling round of the sun.
Why should we, &c.
8
So Ralph and Phil, and Robin and Willie,
Take your partners each of you now.
And Bet and Prue, and Dolly and Celie,
Make a curtsey; lads! make a bow.
Why should we, &c.
[Footnote 24: May be omitted in singing.]
No. 80 CONSTANT JOHNNY
C.J.S.
[Music]
1
Charming Molly, I do love thee,
There's none other I adore;
Pierced by your beauteous eyes,
My heart transfixed lies,
Say, dearest Molly, you'll be mine for evermore.
2
Constant Johnny, I reject thee,
I thy fruitless suit deplore,
Your love I do decline,
I will be no love of thine
No, Johnny, Constant Johnny, ne'er I'll see thee more.
3
Canst thou see young Johnny bleeding
Down in Cupid's rosy bower,
See his transfixed heart,
Full of grief and full of smart,
Say, dearest Molly, thou'lt be mine for evermore.
4