Three merry boys, and three merry boys,
And three merry boys are we,[184:4]
As ever did sing in a hempen string
Under the gallows-tree.
The Bloody Brother. Act iii. Sc. 2.
Hide, oh, hide those hills of snow
Which thy frozen bosom bears,
On whose tops the pinks that grow
Are of those that April wears!
But first set my poor heart free,