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[Music ]
SAy's Roger to Will, both our Teams shall lye still,
And no Hay shall be carry'd to make the Mow;
For what e'er betide, we must see the new Bride,
And the Lads and the Lasses, and all the Show:
Such fine folk never were seen,
For all the Country comes in,
To Day, let's leave then our hoy gee hoa.
There's Flaxen, and Brown, and Slim, and full grown,
There's Tall for your liking, and others low;
There's some that can Skip, and there's others can trip,
There's grey Eyes, and Hazel, and black as Sloe:
Their looks so pleasing and kind,
They're sure all, all of one mind;
Zooks think no more then of hoy gee hoa.
There's Widdows and Maids, with their high cocking heads,
Tho' some are unskilful, yet others know;
There's Batchelors brisk, who can Caper and Frisk,
And the Art of fine footing can nimbly shew:
When blood warms, Matches are made,
Thus on goes love Jolly trade,
Then who'd be sweating at hoy gee hoa.
