Page:Folk-lore - A Quarterly Review Volumes 32 and 33.djvu/611

Rh O, the cuckoo is a fine bird, He fares as he flies: He brings us good tidings And tells us no lies. He feeds on small birds' eggs His voice to make clear, And he never cries "Cuckoo" Until Summer draws near.

O, meeting is pleasure And parting is grief. And an inconstant lover Is worse than a thief; For a thief may but rob you And take what you have, But an inconstant lover'll Send you to your grave.

O, the grave may but rot you And consume you to dust, But an inconstant lover No female will trust. They court and dissemble, Fair maids to deceive, There is scarce one in twenty That you can believe.

O, mating, O, mating, I, mating go I— To meet my love Johnnie I'll be there bye and bye; To meet my loved Johnnie 'Tis pleasure you see: I could sit and talk with him From morning till eve.

He thinks that I'll dress in My willow so green; But he's muchly mistaken, For I'll dress like some queen: