Tune—'Twas yes, kind sir, and I thank you too

The sun was sinking in the west, The linnet perch'd upon the spray, The lambskins had retir'd to rest, And all things show'd the close of day With smiling face, and gentle mien, Young Colin did my steps pursue, And said I was a little queen; 'Twas yes, kind sir—but not for you.

I milk'd the kine within the vale, And sung my ditty all the while; Then happy with my flowing pail, I trip'd the mead, and gain'd the stile: Again young Colin there I found, For he had kept me in his view; "I have a flow'ry garland bound, My little queen, it is for you."

In words so sweet he spoke, and kind, His garland I could not refuse; For love was stealing on my mind, (What virgin could the swain refuse?) He took my piggin o'er the stile, And beg'd he might assist me too; I own I could not hide a smile, But said, kind sir, if you are true.

If I am false then, Colin cried, Oh! may you ne'er my suit approve; But you shall truly be my bride, And then you will not doubt my love: Then hand in hand we trip'd along, The village steeple was in view; To wedlock 'twas he tun'd his song, My answer was,—and I thank ye too.