Like my dear swain, no youth you'd…

Like my dear swain, no youth you'd see, So blithe, so gay, so full of glee; In all our village, who but he To foot it up so featly? His lute to hear, From far and near, Each female came, Both girl and dame; And all his boon, For every tune, To kiss 'em round so sweetly.

While round him in the jocund ring, We nimbly danc'd, he'd play or sing; Of May the youth was chosen king, He caught our ears so neatly. Such music rare In his guitar! But touch his lute, The croud was mute: His only boon, For every tune, To kiss 'em round so sweetly.