"Good morn to you my pretty fair maid ,"
"And twice good morning, sir," she said
He tipped her the wink, and she rolled her dark eye
Says to himself, "I'll be there by and by."
"Oh, don't you like these pooks of hay
Make a pretty place for us to play?
So come with me, my sweet young thing,
And I'll give to you this golden ring."

Then he pulled out a ring of gold,
Saying, "My pretty fair miss, do this behold!
How freely I would give it for your maidenhead."
And her cheeks they blushed like roses red
"Give me that ring into my hand,
And I will neither stay nor stand.
That ring is worth much more to me
Than twenty maidenheads," said she.

But as he made for the pooks of hay
She's jumped on his horse and she's rode away
He called, he called, it was all in vain,
For Joan she never looked back again.

Nor did she think herself quite safe
Until she came to her father's gate
She's robbed him of his horse and ring
And left him to rage in the medows green.

Arrangement © 1986 YT publishing