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 Sweet maid of Primrose-hill, he cry'd, I come a wooing here, Then do not you my love reject, nor treat me too severe; For my heart so true is fix'd on you, I'll constant be to only thee, Thou flower of rosy hue.

The maid she gave her head a toss, reply'd with scornful air, I wonder that you can to me, your fruitless love declare; For suitors great, in land estate, have offer'd me their bride to be, So you do come too late.

Then William hung his head with grief, and, said, Sweet girl adieu, I'll quit your charms for wars alarms, and glory I'll pursue; For love shall yield to Mars the field, the fife and drum, invite to come, I'll poise the spear and shield.

Then with a smile she call'd him back, and said, Dear William stay, I did but jest to try your love, so go not now away; Then with a kiss he seal'd, his bliss, she did agree his bride to be, And nam'd the happy day

Then to the church he went with sweet content, the bells rang all with joy,