I would not be a merchant rich, And eat off silver plate. And ever dread, when laid abed Some freakish turn of fate. One day on high, then ruin nigh, Now wealthy, now undone, 'Tis better for me at ease to be A Country Farmer's Son. 4 I trudge about the farm, all day, To know that all things thrive. A maid I see that pleaseth me, Why then I'm fain to wive. Not over rich, I do not itch, For wealth, but what is won, By honest toil, from out the soil, A Country Farmer's Son. [Footnote 22: May be omitted in singing.] No. 70 THE HOSTESS' DAUGHTER H.F.S. [Music] 1 The Hostess of the Ring of Bells A daughter hath with auburn hair; Go where I will, o'er plain and hill, I do not find a maid more fair; She welcomes me with dimpled smiles, And e'en a kiss will not deny O! would for us the bells did ring! And we were wed--that maid and I! 2 But as I travelled down the road, There went by me a packer-train; 'Twas Roger Rawle, and Sandy Paul, And Hunchback Joe, and Philip Mayne. Says Roger, I have had a kiss, From that sly maiden at the Bell, And I, said Joe, and Paul said so, And so did Philip Mayne as well. 3 Till weather-beaten as the sign That doth before the tavern swing, That maid will stay, and none essay, To make her his with bell and ring. Methinks I'll take another road, Where hap some modest maiden dwells, No saucy miss, with ready kiss, And then for us shall ring the Bells. No. 71 THE JOLLY GOSS-HAWK H.F.S. [Music] 1 I sat on a bank in trifle and play, With my jolly goss-hawk, and her wings were grey; She flew to my breast, And she there built her nest, I am sure pretty bird you with me will stay. 2 She builded within, and she builded without, My jolly goss-hawk, and her wings were grey; She fluttered her wings, And she jingled her rings, So merry was she, and so fond of play. 3 I got me a bell, to tie to her foot, My jolly goss-hawk, and her wings were grey; She mounted in flight, And she flew out of sight, My bell and my rings she carried away. 4 I ran up the street, with nimblest feet, My jolly goss-hawk, and her wings were grey; I whooped and hallo'd, But never she shewed, And I lost my pretty goss-hawk that day. 5 In a meadow so green, the hedges between, My jolly goss-hawk, and her wings were grey; Upon a man's hand, She perch'd did stand, In sport, and trifle, and full array. 6 Who's got her may keep her as best he can, My jolly goss-hawk, and her wings were grey; To every man she is frolic and free, I'll cast her off if she come my way. No. 72 THE SONG OF THE MOOR C.J.S. [Music] 1