Soli Cantare Periti Arcades
Oh, I would live in a dairy, And its Colin I would be, And many a rustic fairy Should churn the milk with me. Or the fields should be my pleasure, And my flocks should follow me, Piping a frolic measure For Joan or Marjorie. For the town is black and weary, And I hate the London street; But the country ways are cheery, And country lanes are sweet. Good luck to you, Paris ladies! Ye are over fine and nice I know where the country maid is, Who needs not asking twice. Ye are brave in your silks and satins, As ye mince about the Town; But her feet go free in pattens, If she wear a russet gown. If she be not queen nor goddess She shall milk my brown-eyed herds, And the breasts beneath her bodice Are whiter than her curds. So I will live in a dairy, And its Colin I will be, And its Joan that I will marry, Or, haply, Marjorie.
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