Soli Cantare Periti Arcades

OH, I would live in a dairy,

And it’s 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 or 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 it’s Colin I will be,

And it’s Joan that I will marry,

Or, haply, Marjorie.