Old Songs

I lov’d a lasse, a faire one,

As faire as e’er was seene;

She was, indeed, a rare one,

Another Sheba queen;

But, foole, as then I was,

I thought she lov’d me too;

But, now, alasse! sh’as left me,

Falero, lero, loo.

Her haire, like gold, did glister;

Each eye was like a starre;

She did surpasse her sister,

Which past all others farre:

She would me hony call:

She’d, oh, she’d kisse me too!

But, now, alasse! sh’as left me,

Falero, lero, loo.

In summer-time, to Medley

My love and I would goe—

The boatmen there stood readie

My love and I to rowe;

For creame there would we call,

For cakes, and for prunes too;

But, now, alasse! sh’as left me,

Falero, lero, loo.