Come follow, follow me, You, fairy elves that be: Which circle on the greene, Come follow Mab your queene. Hand in hand let's dance around, For this place is fairye ground. When mortals are at rest, And snoring in their nest; Unheard, and unespy'd, Through key-holes we do glide; Over tables, stools, and shelves, We trip it with our fairy elves. And, if the house be foul With platter, dish, or bowl, Upstairs we nimbly creep, And find the sluts asleep; There we pinch their armes and thighes; None escapes, nor none espies. But if the house be swept, And from uncleanness kept, We praise the household maid, And duely she is paid: For we use before we goe To drop a tester in her shoe. Upon a mushroome's head Our table-cloth we spread; A grain of rye, or wheat, Is manchet, which we eat; Pearly drops of dew we drink In acorn cups fill'd to the brink. The brains of nightingales, With unctuous fat of snailes, Between two cockles stew'd, Is meat that's easily chew'd; Tailes of wormes, and marrow of mice, Do make a dish that's wondrous nice. The grasshopper, gnat, and fly, Serve for our minstrelsie; Grace said, we dance a while, And so the time beguile: And if the moon doth hide her head, The gloe-worm lights us home to bed. On tops of dewie grasse So nimbly do we passe; The young and tender stalk Ne'er bends when we do walk: Yet in the morning may be seen Where we the night before have been. THE PRAISE OF A COUNTRYMAN'S LIFE JOHN CHALKHILL Oh, the sweet contentment The countryman doth find, High trolollie, lollie, lol; high trolollie, lee; That quiet contemplation Possesseth all my mind: Then care away, and wend along with me. For courts are full of flattery, As hath too oft been tried, High trolollie, lollie, lol; high trolollie, lee; The city full of wantonness, And both are full of pride; Then care away, and wend along with me. But, oh! the honest countryman Speaks truly from his heart, High trolollie, lollie, lol; high trolollie, lee; His pride is in his tillage, His horses and his cart: Then care away, and wend along with me. Our clothing is good sheep-skins, Grey russet for our wives, High trolollie, lollie, lol; high trolollie, lee; 'Tis warmth and not gay clothing That doth prolong our lives: Then care away, and wend along with me. The ploughman, though he labour hard, Yet on the holy day, High trolollie, lollie, lol; high trolollie, lee; No emperor so merrily Does pass his time away: Then care away, and wend along with me.