Page:Six excellent songs (4).pdf/3

( 3 ) The lady went home with her heart full of love,

And gave out a peech that he had loft her glove;

And he that doth find it and bring it to me,

That man that doth find if, his bride I will be,

This pleaed the farmer, to hear of the news,

With his heart full of joy to the lady he goes;

Dear honoured lady, I pick’d up your glove,

And if you are pleaed to grant me your love,

It’s already granted, the lady reply’d,

For I love the weet‘breath of a farmer, he cry’d.

I’ll be Mitres of dairy, and milk all the cows,

While my jolly young farmer is whitling at plows.

The Anwer.

HE quire he returned in a furious mood,

Swearing to be revenged in the farmer’s blood

But fortune to the farmer has proved mot kind,

Diappointed the qiyre of his mot cruel deign.

The quire and the farmer by chance they did meet

Says the quire to the farmer, you are undieet;

For taking from me my weet lovely bride,

You hall either fight, or die by my ide,

With all my whole heart, the farmer did cry,

To fight for my jewel I’ll never deny;

So to work with vigour they intantly went,

But the quire he yielded, gave the farmer content.

And now they are marry’d in great plendor we hear

Now he poees nine thouand a year,

With his beautiful lady, and likewie his hall:

He has men and maid-ervants, and all at his call.

Here’s a health to the plow-boys, my lady did cry

I am wed to a plowman, I’ll never deny;

For they’re men of honour and that we are ure,

Becaue that they labour for both rich and poor.