There was a maid the other day
  Sighed sore. God wot, 
And she said that wives might sport and play,
  But maidens, they might not.
"Full fifteen have I lived." she said,
  "Since I, poor soul, was born.
Oh, if I chance to die a maid,
  Apollo is forsworn. 
Oh, oh, oh for a husband!"
Still this was her song.
"I will have a busband,
Be he old or young." 

An ancient suitor thither came.
  His head was almost gray. 
Though he was old, yet she was young
  And could no longer stay; 
But to her mother went this maid.
  And told her presently 
That a husband she needs must have
  And thus began to cry:
"Oh, oh, oh for a husband!"
Still this was her song.
"I will have a husband,
Be he old or young." 

She had not been a wedded wife
  A quarter of a year 
But she was weary of her life
  And grew into a fear; 
For the old man he lay by her side.
  Could not but sigh and groan. 
Did ever woman so abide? 
  'Twere better lie alone.
"Oh, oh, oh with a husband,
What a life lead I. 
Out upon a husband, 
Such a husband, fie, fie, fie!" 

  "To be a wedded wife." she sald,
  "A twelve-month is too long 
As I have been", poor soul, she said,
  "That am both fair and young, 
When other wives may have their will,
  That art not like to me. 
I mean to go and try my skill
  And find some remedy.
Oh, oh, oh with a husband,
What a life lead I. 
Out upon a husband. 
Such a busband, fie, fie, fie!"