Now my daughter Mary’s gone,
With her pockets all lined with gold;
On my finger a gay gold ring—
Good-bye, Mary, good-bye.
Now this poor widow is left alone,
Nobody could marry a better one;
Choose one, choose two—
Choose the fairest daughter.
—Sheffield (S. O. Addy).
Round the green gravel the grass is so green,
And all the fine ladies that ever were seen;
Washed in milk and dressed in silk,
The last that stoops down shall be married.
[Johnnie Smith] is a nice young man,
And so is [Bessie Jones] as nice as he;
He came to the door with his hat in his hand,
Inquiring for [Miss Jones].
She is neither within, she is neither without,
She is up in the garret a-walking about.
Down she came, as white as milk,
With a rose in her bosom as soft as silk.
Silks and satins be ever so dear,
You shall have a kiss [gown?], my dear,
So off with the glove and on with the ring—
To-morrow, to-morrow, the wedding begins.
—Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire (Miss Matthews).