Bring Me A Lass

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Ho, boy, hey, boy, come, come away, boy,
And bring me my longing desire:
A lass that is neat and can well do the feat
When lusty young blood is on fire.

Let her body be tall, let her waist be small
And her age not above eighteen;
Let her care for no bed but here let her spread
Her mantle upon the green.

Let her have cherry lips, where I nectar may sip,
Let her eyes be as black as a sloe —
Dangling locks I do love, so that those hang above
Are the same with what grows below.

Let her face be fair, her breasts be bare
And a voice let her have that can warble;
Let her belly be soft, but to mount me aloft
Let her bounding buttocks be marble.

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