In a green meadow,
A river running by, 
I heard a pretty maiden
Lament, wail and cry. 
The tears fell from her eyes
As clear as any pearls, 
And then I much lamented
The mourning of this girl.
She sighed and she sobbed
And to herself she said, 
"Alack. what luck had I to live
So long and die a maid. 

Now in this world 
No charity is known. 
And young men are hard-hearted,
Which makes me lie alone.
The day and time had been,
Had I not been so nice, 
I might have enjoyed my true love,
If I had been wise. 
But toyishness and coyishness
And peevishness such store 
Hath brought me to this pensiveness
And maiden, maiden more.

Virginity is a burden 
That few or none can carry,
And that's the reason sure 
That our mothers all did marry.
But since it is a pastime 
That hath been used before.
If bashfulness do wrong me,
I will deny no more. 
For be it light or be it dark
Or do he look or wink, 
He cannot miss the mark
If he hath the wit to think. 

For time lost and time past
Cannot be called again; 
Therefore, maidens, all make haste
Lest with me you complain."