The cock crows first, cider buds first;
The dew does on them fa';
So we'll both lie into ae bed,
And thou's lie next the wa'.
Hold away from me, kind Sir,
And do not me perplex;
For I'll not lie into your bed,
Till you tell me questions six.
Questions six you must tell to me,
And that is four and twa,
Before I lie into your bed,
Either at stock or wa'.
What is greener than the grass,
What's higher than the trees;
And what is worse than woman's voice,
What's deeper than the seas.
A sparrow's horn, a priest unborn,
This night to join us twa;
Before I lie into your bed,
Fiber at stock or wa'.
Death is greener than the grass ;
Sky's higher than the trees';
The devil's worse than woman's voice,
Hell's deeper than the seas;
A sparrow's horn you may well get,
