My spurs are bright and richly wrought,
And in this town they were not bought,
And in this town they shan’t be sold,
Neither for silver nor for gold.
Walk up the kitchen and down the hall,
And choose the fairest of us all.
Madams, to you I bow and bend,
I take you for my dearest friend;
You are two beauties, I declare,
So come along with me, my dear.
—Wenlock, Condover, Ellesmere, Market Drayton (Shropshire Folk-lore, p. 516).
Here come three dukes all out of Spain,
In mourning for your daughter Jane.
My daughter Jane, is yet too young
To cast her eyes on such a one.
Let her be young, or let her be old,
’Tis for her beauty she must be sold.
So fare thee well, my lady gay,
I’ll call on you another day.
Turn back, turn back, you saucy Jack,
Up through the kitchen and through the hall,
And pick the fairest of them all.
The fairest one that I can see.
So please, Miss ——, come with me.