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BY Saint Mary, my lady,
Your mammy and daddy
Brought forth a goodly baby,

My maiden Isabel,
Reflaring rosabel,
The fragrant camamel,

The ruddy rosary,
The sovereign rosemary,
The pretty strawberry,

The columbine, the nepte,
The ieloffer well set,
The proper violet

Envied your colour
Is like the daisy flower
After the April shower,

Star of the morrow grey,
The blossom on the spray,
The freshest flower of May,

Maidenly demure,
Of womanhood the lure.
Wherefore I make you sure

It were an heavenly health,
It were an endless wealth,
A life for God himself

To hear this nightingale
Among the birdes small
Warbling in the vale

Dug, dug,

Jug, jug,
Good year and good luck,
With chuk, chuk, chuk, chuk.

John Skelton


SPRING, the sweet Spring, is the year's pleasant king; Then blooms each thing, then maids dance in a ring. Cold doth not sting, the pretty birds do sing, Cuckoo, jug, jug, pu we, to witta woo.

The palm and may make country houses gay,
Lambs frisk and play, the shepherds pipe all day,
And we hear aye birds tune this merry lay,
Cuckoo, jug, jug, pu we, to witta woo.

The fields breathe sweet, the daisies kiss our feet,
Young lovers meet, old wives a-sunning sit,
In every street these tunes our ears do greet,
Cuckoo, jug, jug, pu we, to witta woo.
Spring, the sweet Spring!

Thomas Nashe


COME live with me and be my Love,
And we will all the pleasures prove
That hills and valleys, dale and field,
And all the craggy mountains yield.
There will we sit upon the rocks
And see the shepherds feed their flocks,
By shallow rivers, to whose falls
Melodious birds sing madrigals.
There will I make thee beds of roses
And a thousand fragrant posies,
A cap of flowers, and a kirtle
Embroider'd all with leaves of myrtle.
A gown made of the finest wool,
Which from our pretty lambs we pull,
Fair linéd slippers for the cold,
With buckles of the purest gold.
A belt of straw and ivy buds
With coral clasps and amber studs:
And if these pleasures may thee. move,
Come live with me and be


Love. Thy silver dishes for thy meat As precious as the gods do eat, Shall on an ivory table be Prepared each day for thee and me. The shepherd swains shall dance and sing For thy delight each May morning: If these delights thy mind may move, Then live with me and be my Love. Christopher Marlowe


LAWN as white as driven snow,
Cyprus black as e'er was crow;
Gloves as sweet as damask roses;
Masks for faces and for noses;
Bugle bracelet, necklace amber,
Perfume for a lady's chamber;
Golden quoifs and stomachers,
For my lads to give their dears:
Pins and poking-sticks of steel,
What maids lack from head to heel:
Come buy of me, come; come buy, come buy;
Buy, lads, or else your lasses cry:
Come buy.

William Shakespeare


THE poor soul sat sighing by a sycamore tree,

Sing all a green willow;
Her hand on her bosom, her head on her knee,

Sing willow, willow, willow:
The fresh streams ran by her, and murmur'd her

moans; Sing willow, willow, willow; Her salt tears fell from her, and soften'd the stones;

Sing willow, willow, willow;

Sing all a green willow must be my garland. Let nobody blame him; his scorn I approve, I call'd my love false love; but what said he then?

Sing willow, willow, willow: If I court moe women, you'll couch with moe men.

William Shakespeare

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