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And if ſhe ſays ſhe loves me not,
I'll laugh at her diſdain:
If ſhe be conſtant, I'll be true,
and ſo we ſhall agree.
And if ſhe ſays ſhe loves me not,
I'll change as well as ſhe,
There is twelve months into the year,
as I hear people ſay;
The merrieſt month, in all the year,
is the months of June and May;
Theſe are the months I chooſe my love,
if it pleaſes her deſire;
Young women carry the keys of Love,
men's hearts are all on fire.
The LASS of GALAWATER
ON Galawater fair and clear,
there lives a lovely creature,
Whoſe beauty rare makes her excel,
all other works of nature.
I fix'd my mind on this lovely dame,
determin'd ne'er to alter;
But like a falſe deluding fair,
I found her love but flatter.
My love ſhe lives upon yon hill,
it's all grown o'er with heather,
Come tie the creel upon my back,
ſome berries for to gather.
