But when his friends did understand
His fond and foolish mind,
They sent him up to fair London
An apprentice for to bind.
And when he had been seven long years,
And never his love could see:
"Many a tear have I shed for her sake,
When she little thought of me."
Then all the maids of Islington
Went forth to sport and play,
All but the bailiff's daughter dear—
She secretly stole away.
She pulled off her gown of green,
And put on ragged attire,
And to fair London she would go,
Her true love to inquire.
And as she went along the high road,
The weather being hot and dry,
She sat her down upon a green bank,
And her true love came riding by.
She started up, with a colour so red,
Catching hold of his bridle-rein;
"One penny, one penny, kind sir," she said,
"Will ease me of much pain."
"Before I give you one penny, sweetheart,
Pray tell me where you were born?"
"At Islington, kind sir," said she,
"Where I have had many a scorn."
"I pr'ythee, sweetheart, then tell to me,
O tell me, whether you know
The bailiff's daughter of Islington?"
"She is dead, sir, long ago."
"If she be dead, then take my horse,
My saddle and bridle also;
For I will into some far countrie,
Where no man shall me know."
O stay, O stay, thou goodly youth,
She standeth by thy side:
She is here alive, she is not dead—
And ready to be thy bride.