Anonymous
There was a youth, and a well beloved youth,
And he was a esquire’s son,
He loved the bayliff’s daughter dear,
That lived in Islington.
She was coy, and she would not believe
That he was a esquire’s son,
He loved the bayliff’s daughter dear,
That lived in Islington.
But when his friends did understand
His fond and foolish mind,
They sent him up to fair London,
An apprentice for to bind.
And when he had been seven long years,
And his love he had not seen,
“Many a tear have I shed for her sake
When she little thought of me.”
All the maids of Islington
Went forth to sport and play–
All but the bayliff’s daughter dear–
She secretly stole away.
She put off her gown of gray,
And put on her puggish attire
She’s up to fair London gone,
Her true-love to require.
As she went along the road,
The weather being hot and dry,
There was she aware of her true-love,
At length came riding by.
She stept to him, as red as any rose,
And took him by the bridle-ring:
“I pray you, kind sir, give me one penny,
To ease my weary limb.”
“I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me
Where that thou wast born?”
“At Islington, kind sir,” said she,
“Where I have had many a scorn.”
“I prithee, sweetheart canst thou tell me
Whether thou dost know
The bayliff’s daughter of Islington?”
“She’s dead, sir, long ago.”
“Then will I sell my goodly steed,
My saddle and my bow;
I will into some far county,
Where no man doth me know.”
“O stay, O stay, thou goodly youth;
She’s alive, she is not dead;
Here she standeth by thy side,
And ready to be thy bride.”
“O farewell grief, and welcome joy,
Ten thousand times and more.
For now I have seen my own true-love,
That I thought I should have seen no more.
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