The Banks of Sweet Primroses (Such)

by Traditional

For other versions of this work, see The Banks of Sweet Primroses.

THE
BANKS OF
SWEET PRIMROSES.

London:—SUCH, Printer.

AS I walked one mid-summer morning
⁠To view the fields and take the air,
Down by the banks of sweet primroses,
⁠There I beheld a most lovely fair.

Three long steps I took up to her,
⁠Not knowing her, as she passed me by;
I stepp'd up to her thinking to view her
⁠She appeared to be like some virtuous bride.

I said fair maid where are you going,
⁠Or what is the occasion of all your grief
I'll make you as happy as any lady,
⁠If you will grant me some small relief.

Stand off, stand off, you are quite deceitful
⁠You've been a false deceitful man 'tis plain,
It's you that cause my poor heart to wander,
⁠To give me comfort it is all in vain.

I'll go down into some lonesome valley
⁠No man on earth shall e'er me find;
When the pretty birds shall change their voices,
⁠At every moment shall blow boisterous wind.

Come all you young maids that go courting,
⁠Pray give attention to what I do say,
For there's many a dark & cloudy morning,
⁠Turns out to be a sun-shiny day.