Thomas Lodge (1558–1625)

A BLITHE and bonny country lass,

Heigh ho, the bonny lass!

Sat sighing on the tender grass,

And weeping said, “Will none come woo me?”

A smicker boy, a lither swain,

Heigh ho, a smicker swain!

That in his love was wanton fain,

With smiling looks straight came unto her.

When as the wanton wench espied,

Heigh ho, when she espied!

The means to make herself a bride,

She simpered smooth like bonnybell:

The swain that saw her squint-eyed kind,

Heigh ho, squint-eyed kind!

His arms about her body twined,

And “Fair lass, how fare ye, well?”

The country kit said, “Well forsooth,

Heigh ho, well forsooth!

But that I have a longing tooth,

A longing tooth that makes me cry.”

“Alas!” said he, “what gars thy grief?

Heigh ho, what gars thy grief?”

“A wound,” quoth she, “without relief:

I fear a maid that I shall die.”

“If that be all,” the shepherd said,

“Heigh ho,” the shepherd said,

“I’ll make thee wive it, gentle maid,

And so recure thy malady.”

Hereon they kissed with many an oath,

Heigh ho, with many an oath,

And ’fore God Pan did plight their troth,

And to the church they hied them fast.

And God send every pretty peat,

Heigh ho, the pretty peat!

That fears to die of this conceit,

So kind a friend to help at last.