[ 4 ]
If you be my poor and single sailor,
shew me-the token I gave to thee;
For seven years makes an alteration,
since my true love has gone from me.
He pull’d his hand out of his bosom,
his fingers being long and small;
He shew’d the ring that was broke between them-
no sooner she saw it, than down did fall.
He took her up into his arms,
and gave her kisses, one, two, by three:
I am your poor and single sailor,
that’s just return’d to marry thee.
So, hand in hand, they went together
unto the church without delay,
Where there he marry’d his lovely Sally,
and made her his lady gay.
A Sweet country life is both pleasant & charming,
For to walk abroad in a fine summer’s morning,
Your houses and cities, and lofty fine towers,
Can never compare to the sweet shady bowers.
O little do I admire your robes and fine dresses,
Your silks, and your feathers, and other excesses,
For my own country clothing’s to me more endearing,
Than your pretty sweet mantle, for my home-spun wearing.
No fiddle nor flute, no hautboy, or spinet,
Can ever compare with the lark and the linnet,
Down as I lay among the green bushes,
I was charmed by the notes of the blackbirds and thrushes.
