Here’s your daughter, not safe nor sound,
Nor in her pocket one hundred pound,
On her finger no gay gold ring,
I’m sure she’s not fit to walk with a king.
—Barnes, Surrey, and London (A. B. Gomme).
Here come three tinkers, three by three,
To court your daughter, fair lady;
Oh! have you any lodgings here, oh, here?
Oh! have you any lodgings here?
Sleep, sleep, daughter, do not wake,
Here come three tinkers we cannot take;
We haven’t any lodgings here, oh, here,
We haven’t any lodgings here.
Here come three soldiers, three by three,
To court your daughter, fair lady;
Oh! have you any lodgings here, oh, here?
Oh! have you any lodgings here?
Sleep, sleep, daughter, do not wake,
Here come three soldiers we cannot take;
We haven’t any lodgings here, oh, here,
We haven’t any lodgings here.
Here come three kings, three by three,
To court your daughter, fair lady;
Oh! have you any lodgings here, oh, here?
Oh! have you any lodgings here?
Wake, wake, daughter, do not sleep,
Here come three kings that we can take;
We have some lodgings here, oh, here,
We have some lodgings here.