Staines Morris

Come ye young men, come along With your music, dance and song Bring your lasses in your hands For tis that which love commands

Chorus: Then to the Maypole haste away For 'tis now our holiday

It is the choice time of the year For the violets now appear Now the rose receives its birth And the pretty primrose decks the earth

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Here each bachelor may choose One that will not faith abuse Nor repay, with coy disdain Love that should be loved again

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And when you well reckoned have What kisses you your sweetheart gave Take them all again, and more It will never make them poor

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When you thus have spent your time And the day be past its prime To your beds repair at night And dream there of your day's delight

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