Page:Oxford Book of English Verse 1250-1918.djvu/293

 GEORGE WITHER

She would me 'honey' call,

She'd O she'd kiss me too! But now, alas' she 's left me, lero, loo!

��In summer time to Medley My love and I would go;

The boatmen there stood read'ly My love and me to row.

For cream there would we call, For cakes and for prunes too;

But now, alas* she 's left me, y lero y loot

��Her cheeks were like the cherry,

Her skin was white as snow, When she was blithe and merry

She angel-like did show; Her waist exceeding small,

The fives did fit her shoe: But now, alas' she 's left me,

Falero, lero y /oo f

In summer time or winter

She had her heart's desire; I still did scorn to stint her From sugar, sack, or fire; The world went round about,

No cares we ever knew: But now, alas! she 's left me, Oy lero y loo I

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