A Lord rode out one sunny morn to view the meadows round, And spied a pretty country maid come tripping o’er the ground. Dismounting from his milk-white steed he said “Come kiss your Lord”. She trembling stood there and obeyed, poor girl, quite overawed. [‘Fie, fie, why not say no?’] He took this fair maid for a walk, her hand within his own; “I want to purchase your true heart: ‘tis you I love alone! I’ll make you happy. Take my purse, my ring, my watch so fine; And if you want still more from me, then speak and it is thine!” [‘Fie, fie, that sounds too good!’] “Kind sir” she said, “I pray take care; my brothers - they might see. And if they spread the tale about, what would become of me? Were they not working quite so nigh I fear that I might yield. Climb up upon that bank and see if they are in the field.” [‘Ha, ha, what happened then?’] Now as the Lord rose up to look, the maid to his dismay Leapt on his steed, and like the wind she quickly tore away. “I’ll go no more a-roving with you, kind sir” she cried. He stood there in a fearful rage: denied, and then defied! [‘Ha, ha, a pretty pass, the clever lass!’]