GEORGE WITHER
She would me 'honey' call,
She'd O she'd kiss me too! But now, alas' she 's left me, lero, loo!
��In summer time to Medley My love and I would go;
The boatmen there stood read'ly My love and me to row.
For cream there would we call, For cakes and for prunes too;
But now, alas* she 's left me, y lero y loot
��Her cheeks were like the cherry,
Her skin was white as snow, When she was blithe and merry
She angel-like did show; Her waist exceeding small,
The fives did fit her shoe: But now, alas' she 's left me,
Falero, lero y /oo f
In summer time or winter
She had her heart's desire; I still did scorn to stint her From sugar, sack, or fire; The world went round about,
No cares we ever knew: But now, alas! she 's left me, Oy lero y loo I
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�� �
