[4]
My love ſhe lives upon a hill,
it's all grown o'er with heather,
Come tie the creel upon my back,
ſome berries for to gather.
Come fill the creel come fill it well,
ſee that it lake no berries,
For a man that loves hiſ miſtreſs well,
he will her always cheriſh.
Some people ſay, that I am rude,
and in me there's no wiſdom;
But believe me now, I'll tell you true,
I'll be a loving husband.
Our ministers and clergymen,
they ſpeak for gain and treaſure,
The man that loves his misſtreſs well,
he'll wait upon her leiſure.
I'll come to-night when the moon ſhines bright,
becauſe thou art my deary:
A man that loves his mistreſs well,
no travel makes him weary.
Down in yon garden there are bees,
ſand below their hive there's honey,
The man that loves his miſtreſs well,
he values not her money.
I know thy friends are uſing means,
on purpoſe to diſſuade you,
Thinking to get a better match,
but fortune may beguile you.
