The Wooing
A youth went faring up and down,Alack and well-a-day.He fared him to the market town,Alack and well-a-day.And there he met a maiden fair,With hazel eyes and auburn hair;His heart went from him then and there,Alack and well-a-day.
She posies sold right merrily,Alack and well-a-day;But not a flower was fair as she,Alack and well-a-day.He bought a rose and sighed a sigh,“Ah, dearest maiden, would that IMight dare the seller too to buy!”Alack and well-a-day.
She tossed her head, the coy coquette,Alack and well-a-day.“I’m not, sir, in the market yet,”Alack and well-a-day.“Your love must cool upon a shelf;Tho’ much I sell for gold and pelf,I ‘m yet too young to sell myself,”Alack and well-a-day.
The youth was filled with sorrow sore,Alack and well-a-day.And looked he at the maid once more,Alack and well-a-day.Then loud he cried, “Fair maiden, ifToo young to sell, now as I live,You’re not too young yourself to give,”Alack and well-a-day.
The little maid cast down her eyes,Alack and well-a-day.And many a flush began to rise,Alack and well-a-day.“Why, since you are so bold,” she said,“I doubt not you are highly bred,So take me!” and the twain were wed,Alack and well-a-day.