[ 2 ]
AS I was a walking one morning in May,
The fields wereadorn’d, the meadows were gay,
The trees in great branches were cover'd with young,
And the small birds round me so sweetly did sing.
There’s none in the world so happy as me.
As me and my Flora, my Flora and me:
I will go to my Flora and to her I’ll say,
To make us both happy, love, it wants but one day.
One day says the fair maid, that day is to come,
To wed gentle shepherd, to wed I’m too young,
I will first go to service, and when I return,
Then we will be married and love serve on.
As fortune would have it to service she went,
To wait on a lady it was her intent,
For to wait on a Lady, and a rich Lady gay,
Who clothed fair Flora in costly array.
A week or two after a letter I sent,
Just two or three lines for to know what she meant,
But she wrote that she liv’d such a contented life,
That she never, no never could be a shepherd’s wife.
These lines unexpected will make me to smart,
I will pluck up my spirits, and cheer up my heart,
In hopes that my fair one will write so no more,
But her answer confounded me 10,000 times o’er.
You fields and green meadows I bid you adieu,
My bags and my bottle l leave unto you,
My hook, crook, and pipe, I leave them behind,
Since Flora, fair Flora, has prov'd so unkind.
