Soli Cantare Periti Arcades

Oh, I would live in a dairy,     And its 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 nor 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 its Colin I will be,     And its Joan that I will marry,     Or, haply, Marjorie.