The four and twentieth day of May, of all days of the year, sir,
A virgin lady, fresh and gay, did privately appear, sir.
Hard by a riverside got she, and did sing loud, the rather,
For she was sure she was secure, and had intent to bath her.
With glittering glancing jealous eyes, she shyly looks about, sir,
To see if any lurking spies were hid to find her out, sir.
And being well resolved that none could see her nakedness, sir,
She pulled her robes off, one by one, and did herself undress, sir.
Into the fluent stream she leapt, she looked like Venus' glass, sir.
The fishes from all quarters crept to see so fair a lass, sir.
Each fish did wish himself a man, about her all were drawn, sir.
And at the sight of her began to spread about their spawn, sir.
A lad that long her love had been and could obtain no grace, sir,
For all her prying lay unseen, hid in a secret place, sir.
Who had often been repulsed when he had come to woo her,
Pulled off his clothes and furiously did run and leap into her.
She squeaked, she cried, and down she dived, he brought her up again, sir.
He brought her up upon the shore, and then, and then, and then, sir.
As Adam did old Eve enjoy, you may guess what I mean, sir;
Because she all uncovered lay, he covered her again, sir.
With watered eyes, she pants and cries, "I'm utterly undone, sir,
If you will not be wed to me by the next morning sun, sir."
He answered her, he would not stir out of her sight till then, sir.
"We'll both clasp hands in wedlock bands, marry, and to it again, sir."