The Banks of Sweet Primroses (Such)

by Traditional

For other versions of this work, see The Banks of Sweet Primroses.

THE
BANKS OF
SWEET PRIMROSES.

London:—SUCH, Printer.

AS I walked one mid-summer morning
To view the fields and take the air,
Down by the banks of sweet primroses,
There I beheld a most lovely fair.

Three long steps I took up to her,
Not knowing her, as she passed me by;
I stepp'd up to her thinking to view her
She appeared to be like some virtuous bride.

I said fair maid where are you going,
Or what is the occasion of all your grief
I'll make you as happy as any lady,
If you will grant me some small relief.

Stand off, stand off, you are quite deceitful
You've been a false deceitful man 'tis plain,
It's you that cause my poor heart to wander,
To give me comfort it is all in vain.

I'll go down into some lonesome valley
No man on earth shall e'er me find;
When the pretty birds shall change their voices,
At every moment shall blow boisterous wind.

Come all you young maids that go courting,
Pray give attention to what I do say,
For there's many a dark & cloudy morning,
Turns out to be a sun-shiny day.