| 1 |
As I lay musing all alone,
fa, la, la, la, la
A pretty jeast I thought upon;
fa, la, la, la, la
Then listen a while, and I will you tell
Of a fryer that loved a bonny lass well.
fa, la, la, la, la
fa, la, la, lang-tre-down-dilly |
| 2 |
He came to the maid when she went to bed,
Desiring to have her maidenhead,
But she deny d his desire,
And told him that she feard hell-fire. |
| 3 |
'Tush,' quoth the fryer, 'Thou needst not doubt
If thou wert in hell I could sing thee out:'
'Then,' quoth the maid, 'Thou shalt have thy request;'
The fryer was glad as a fox in his nest. |
| 4 |
'But one thing,' quoth she, 'I do desire,
Before you have what you require;
Before that you shall do the thing,
An angel of mony thou shalt me bring.' |
| 5 |
'Tush,' quoth the fryer, 'we shall agree,
No mony shall part my love and me;
Before that I will see thee lack,
I'le pawn the grey gown from my back.' |
| 6 |
The maid bethought her of a wile
How she the fryer might bequile;
While he was gone, the truth to tell,
She hung a cloth before the well. |
| 7 |
The fryer came, as his covenant was,
With money to his bonny lass;
'Good morrow, fair maid!' 'Good morrow!' quoth she.
'Here is the mony I promised thee.' |
| 8 |
thankt the man, and she took his mony:
'Now let us go to 't,' quoth he, 'Sweet hony:'
'O stay,' quoth she, 'Some respite make,
My father comes, he will me take.' |
| 9 |
'Alas!' quoth the fryer, 'where shall I run,
To hide me till that he be gone?'
'Behinde the cloath run thou,' quoth she,
'And there my father cannot thee see.' |
| 10 |
Behind the cloath the fryer crept,
And into the well on the sudden he leapt;
'Alas,' quoth he, 'i am in the well!'
'No matter,' quoth she, 'if thou wert in hell. |
| 11 |
'Thou sayst thou couldst sing me out of hell,
Now prithee sing thy self out of the well:'
The fryer sung with a pittiful sound,
Oh help me out, or I shall be dround! |
| 12 |
'I trow,' quoth she, 'your courage is coold.'
Quoth the fryer, I was never so foold,
I never was serv d so before.
'Then take heed,' quoth she, 'Thou comst there no more.' |
| 13 |
Quoth he, For sweet Saint Francis sake
On his disciple some pitty take:
Quoth she, Saint Francis never taught
His scholars to tempt young maids to naught. |
| 14 |
The fryer did entreat her still
That she should help him out of the well;
She heard him make such pittious moan
She helpd him out, and bid him be gone. |
| 15 |
Quoth he, Shall I have my mony again,
Which thou from me hast beforehand tane?
'Good sir,' said she, 'There's no such matter;
I'le make you pay for fouling my water.' |
| 16 |
The fryer went all along the street,
Droping wet, like a new-washd sheep;
Both old and young commended the maid
That such a witty prank had plaid. |
