( 5 )
Hold away from me, kind Sir,
I pray you give me o’er;
For I will not go to your bed,
till you tell me questions four.
Questions four you must tell to me,
and that is twa and twa,
Or I’ll not ly into your bed,
neither at stock nor wa'.
You must get me some winter fruit,
that in December grew;
You must get me a silk mantle,
that wast was ne’er ca'd thro’.
What birds sing best & woods buds first,
what dews does on them fa’?
And then I’ll ly into your bed,
either at stock or wa'.
My father hath some winter fruit,
that in December grew;
My mother has a silk mantle,
that wast was ne’er ca'd thro'.
The Cock crows first, Cyder buds first,
the dew does on them fa';
So we’ll both ly into ae bed,
and thou’s ly next the wa’.
Hold away from me, kind Sir,
and do not me perplex;
For I will not ly in your bed,
