Page:Three songs (1).pdf/5

5

Or I'll not lie in your bed,
 neither at ſtock nor wa'.

You muſt get me ſome winter fruit,
 that in December grew;
You muſt get to me a ſilk mantle,
 that waft was ne'er ca'd through,
What bird ſing's firſt and wood bud firſt,
 that dew does on them fa',
And then I'll lie in your bed,
 either at ſtock or wa'.

My father has ſome winter fruit,
 that in December grew,
My mother has a ſilk mantle,
 that waft was ne'er ca'd through,
The cock crows firſt, cyder buds firſt,
 the dew does ou them fa',
So we'll both lye in ae bed,
 and thou's lye next the wa'.

Hold away from me kind ſir,
 and do not me perplex,
For I will not lye in your bed,
 till you tell me queſtions ſix,
Queſtions ſix you muſt tell me,
 and that is four and twa
Before I'll lye in your bed,
 either at ſtock or wa'.

What is greener than the graſs
 what's higher than the trees?
What is worſe than women's voice,
 what's deeper than the ſeas?