Old Ballads

Come, lasses and lads,

ÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊget leave of your dads,

ÊÊAnd away to the Maypole hie,

For ev'ry fair has a sweetheart there,

ÊÊAnd the fiddler's standing by;

For Willy shall dance with Jane,

ÊÊAnd Johnny has got his Joan,

To trip it, trip it, trip it, trip it,

ÊÊTrip it up and down!

"You're out," says Dick; "not I," says Nick,

ÊÊ"'Twas the fiddler play'd it wrong;"

"'Tis true," says Hugh, and so says Sue,

ÊÊAnd so says ev'ry one.

The fiddler than began

ÊÊTo play the tune again,

And ev'ry girl did trip it, trip it,

ÊÊTrip it to the men!

Then, after an hour, they went to a bow'r,

ÊÊAnd play'd for ale and cakes;

And kisses too,Ñuntil they were due,

ÊÊThe lasses held the stakes.

The girls did then begin

ÊÊTo quarrel with the men,

And bade them take their kisses back,

ÊÊAnd give them their own again!

"Good-night," says Harry;

ÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊ"good-night," says Mary;

ÊÊ"Good-night," says Poll to John;

"Good-night," says Sue

ÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊÊto her sweetheart Hugh;

ÊÊ"Good-night," says ev'ry one.

Some walk'd and some did run,

ÊÊSome loiter'd on the way,

And bound themselves by kisses twelve,

ÊÊTo meet the next holiday.