  There was a youth, a well-beloved youth, And he was a squire's son; He loved the bayliffe's daughter dear, That lived in Islington. Yet she was coy and would not believe That he did love her so, No nor at any time would she Any countenance to him show. But when his friends did understand His fond and foolish mind, They sent him up to faire London An apprentice for to bind. And when he had been seven long years, And never his love could see: Many a tear have I shed for her sake, When she little thought of me. Then all the maids of Islington Went forth to sport and play, All but the bayliffe's daughter dear; She secretly stole away. She pulled off her gown of green, And put on ragged attire, And to faire London she would go Her true love to enquire. And as she went along the high road, The weather being hot and dry, She sat her down upon a green bank, And her true love came riding bye. Catching hold of his bridle-reine; One penny, one penny, kind sir, she said, Will ease me of much pain. Before I give you one penny, sweetheart, Pray tell me where you were born. At Islington, kind sir, said she, Where I have had many a scorn. I prythe, sweetheart, then tell to me, O tell me, whether you know, The bayliffe's daughter of Islington. She is dead, sir, long ago. If she be dead, then take my horse, My saddle and bridle also; For I will unto some far country, Where no man shall me know. O stay, O stay, thou goodly youth, She standeth by thy side; She is here alive, she is not dead, And ready to be thy bride. O farewell grief, and welcome joy, Ten thousand times therefore; For now I have found mine own true love, Whom I thought I should never see more. |
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