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Coridons Song.
A blithe and bonny Country-Lasse,
heigh hoe bonny-Lasse,
Sate sighing on the tender grasse,
and weeping sayd: will none come woo me?
A smicker Boy a lither Swaine,
heigh hoe a snacker Swaine:
That in his loue was wanton fame,
with smiling lookes straite came vnto her.
heigh hoe bonny-Lasse,
Sate sighing on the tender grasse,
and weeping sayd: will none come woo me?
A smicker Boy a lither Swaine,
heigh hoe a snacker Swaine:
That in his loue was wanton fame,
with smiling lookes straite came vnto her.
When as the wanton Wench espied,
heigh hoe when she espied,
The meanes to make her selfe a Bride,
she simpred smooth like bonnie-bell:
The Swaine that sawe her squint-eyed kinde,
heigh hoe squint-eyed kinde,
His armes about her body twin'd
and sayd, Faire Lasse, how fare ye, well?
heigh hoe when she espied,
The meanes to make her selfe a Bride,
she simpred smooth like bonnie-bell:
The Swaine that sawe her squint-eyed kinde,
heigh hoe squint-eyed kinde,
His armes about her body twin'd
and sayd, Faire Lasse, how fare ye, well?
The Country-Kit sayd, well forsooth,
heigh hoe well forsooth,
But that I haue a longing tooth,
a longing tooth that makes me crie:
Alas (said he) what ganes thy greefe,
heigh hoe what ganes thy greefe?
A wound (quoth she) without releefe,
I feare a mayde that I shall die.
heigh hoe well forsooth,
But that I haue a longing tooth,
a longing tooth that makes me crie:
Alas (said he) what ganes thy greefe,
heigh hoe what ganes thy greefe?
A wound (quoth she) without releefe,
I feare a mayde that I shall die.
If that be all, the Sheepheard sayd,
heigh hoe the Sheepheard sayd,
Ile make thee wiue it gentle Mayde,
and so recure thy maladie:
Heereon they kist with many an oath,
heigh hoe many an oath,
And fore God Pan did plight their troath,
so to the Church apace they hie.
heigh hoe the Sheepheard sayd,
and so recure thy maladie:
Heereon they kist with many an oath,
heigh hoe many an oath,
And fore God Pan did plight their troath,
so to the Church apace they hie.
And God send euery pretty peate,
heigh hoe the pretty peate,
That feares to die of this conceite,
so kind a friend to helpe at last:
Then Maydes shall neuer long againe,
heigh hoe to long-againe,
When they finde ease for such a paine,
thus my Roundelay is past.
heigh hoe the pretty peate,
That feares to die of this conceite,
so kind a friend to helpe at last:
Then Maydes shall neuer long againe,
heigh hoe to long-againe,
When they finde ease for such a paine,
thus my Roundelay is past.
FINIS.
Thom. Lodge.
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