  Gentle Dame Priscilla At her wheel is singing, Singing of her lover, very far away. Would I were that lover, From my hiding springing I would stop her singing in my own fond way. Gentle Dame Priscilla At her wheel is spinning Fancies of her lover, who has gone to sea. Would I were that lover, Honey-tongued and winning, It were then no sinning though I kissed her free. |
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