Let her be young, or let her be old,
Her beauty is gone, she must be sold.
Fare thee well, my lady gay,
I’ll call again another day.
Turn back, turn back, you ugly wight,
And clean your spurs till they shine bright.
My spurs they shine as bright as snow,
And fit for any king to show;
So fare thee well, my lady gay,
I’ll call again another day.
Turn back, turn back, you ugly wight,
And choose the fairest one you like.
The fairest one that I can see,
Is you, dear ——, so come with me.
—Notes and Queries (1852), vol. vi. 242.
Here comes three knights all out of Spain,
We have come to court your daughter Jane.
Our daughter Jane she is too young,
She has not learned the Spanish tongue.