I have a yong suster
Fer beyonden the se,
Many be the drowryes
That she sente me.
She sente me the cherye
Withouten ony ston;
And so she dede the dove
Withouten ony bon.
She sente me the brer
Withouten ony rinde;
She bad me love my lemman
Withoute longing.
How shuld ony cherye
Be withoute ston?
And how shuld ony dove
Be withoute bon?
How shuld ony brer
Been withoute rinde?
How shuld I love myn lemman
Withoute longing?
I love to do my homework,
It makes me feel so good.
I love to do exactly
As my teacher says I should.
I love to do my homework,
I never miss a day.
I even love the men in white
Who are taking me away.
I saw my Lady weep,
And Sorrow proud to be advanced so
In those fair eyes, where all perfections keep;
Her face was full of woe,
But such a woe (believe me) as wins more hearts
Than mirth can do, with her enticing parts.
Sorrow was there made fair,
And Passion, wise; Tears, a delightful thing;
Silence, beyond all speech, a wisdom rare;
She made her sighs to sing,
And all things with so sweet a sadness move;
As made my heart both grieve and love.
As I was walking one morning in spring,
I heard a fair maiden most charmingly sing,
All under her cow, as she sat a-milking,
Saying, I shall be married, next Monday morning.
You fairest of all creatures, my eyes e’ er beheld,
Oh! Where do you live love, or where do you dwell,
I dwell at the top of yon bonny brown hill,
I shall be fifteen years old next Monday morning.
