The Bodleian broadside collection has several copies of this. Only a few words vary; my version below is sort of a composite. It has some obvious shortcomings, such as the occasional lack of rhyme, but the various versions in the collection are consistent in this respect.


THE BUXOM LASS

1. As I walk'd out one morning I met a buxom lass.
Belonging to a dairyman, she had a field of grass.
It grew between two mountains, at the foot of a rising hill.
She hir'd me to cut it down, while the birds did sweetly sing.

2. He said, my pretty fair maid, what wages do you give,
For mowing is hard labour without the scythe is good.
She said, if you do please me well, I solemnly do swear,
I will give you a crown an acre, and plenty of strong beer.

3. He said, my handsome fair maid, I like your wages well,
And if I mow your grass down, you shall say it is done well;
For my scythe is in good order, and lately has been ground,
So my buxom lass, I'll mow your grass close down to the ground.

4. She said, my lusty young man, will you now begin.
My grass is in good order. I long to have it down.
It is such pleasant weather, I long to clear the ground,
So get your scythe in order to mow my meadow down.

5. With courage like a lion, he enter'd in the field.
He said he'd mow her meadow down before he left the field.
Before he mow'd one rood of grass, his scythe it bent and broke.
She said, young man, you must give in; you are tir'd of your work.

6. Says she, my handsome young man, you are tir'd of your work,
For mowing is hard labour, and weakening to the back;
For mowing is hard labour and that you must forsake,
But round my little meadow, you can use your fork and rake.

7. He said my handsome fair maid, now do not on me now frown,
For if I stop the summer, I cannot mow it down;
It is such a pleasant place, and bears such crops of grass,
It is well water'd with a spring, which makes it grow so fast.