|
One evening as I rambled amongst the springing thyme, |
|
I overheard a young woman conversing with Reynardine. |
|
And her hair was black and her eyes were blue, her mouth as red as wine, |
|
And he smiled as he looked upon her, did this sly bold Reynardine. |
|
And she says, \"Young man, be civil, my company forsake, |
|
For to my good opinion I fear you are a rake.\" |
|
And he said, \"My dear, well I am no rake brought up in Venus' train. |
|
But I'm searching for concealment all from the judge's men.\" |
|
And her cherry cheeks and her ruby lips they lost their former dye, |
|
And she's fell into his arms there all on the mountain high. |
|
And they hadn't kissed but once or twice till she came to again, |
|
And it's modestly she asked him, \"Pray tell to me your name.\" |
|
\"Well, if by chance you ask for me, perhaps you'll not me find, |
|
I'll be in my green castle, enquire for Reynardine.\" |
|
And it's day and night she followed him his, teeth so bright did shine. |
|
And he led her over the mountain, did the sly bold Reynardine. |
