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As I was a-walking one morning in Spring, |
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So soft blew the wind through the leaves growing green. |
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I spied a pretty fair maid all on a grey mare, |
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As she was a-riding on down to Horn Fair. |
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I asked this pretty fair maid for to let me ride, |
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"Oh no, oh no, for my mummy would sigh. |
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And besides my own daddy would beat me for sure, |
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And never let me ride on the grey mare no more." |
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"I can see by your looks you're for one game of play, |
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But you will not ride me nor my grey mare today. |
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You would crumple my muslin and uncurl my hair, |
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And I shouldn't be fit to be seen when I get to Horn Fair". |
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"Oh no, my pretty fair maid, how can you say so? |
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For it is my intention Horn Fair for to go. |
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We will join the best of company when we do get there, |
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With horns on our heads just as fine as our hair". |
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They were the finest of horns that you ever did behold, |
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The finest of horns, and all gilded with gold. |
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And so merrily, so merrily, to Horn Fair we did go, |
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Like jolly brisk couples and all in one row. |
