My mead’s not made, my cake’s not baked,
And you cannot have my daughter Jane.
—Cambridgeshire, Halliwell’s Nursery Rhymes, p. 222.
We are three brethren out of Spain,
Come to court your daughter Jane.
My daughter Jane, she is too young,
And has not learned her mother tongue.
Be she young, or be she old,
For her beauty she must be sold.
So fare you well, my lady gay,
We’ll call again another day.
Turn back, turn back, thou scornful knight,
And rub thy spurs till they be bright.
Of my spurs take you no thought,
For in this town they were not bought.
So fare you well, my lady gay,
We’ll call again another day.
Turn back, turn back, thou scornful knight,
And take the fairest in your sight.
The fairest maid that I can see,
Is pretty Nancy—come to me.
Here comes your daughter, safe and sound,
Every pocket with a thousand pound,
Every finger with a gay gold ring,
Please to take your daughter in.