In the merry month of May,
In a morn by break of day,
Forth I walkèd by the woodside,
Whereas May was in her pride:
And there I spièd ‖: all alone :‖
‖: Phillida :‖ and Corydon.
Much ado there was, God wot!
For he would love and she would not.
She said, ‘Never man was true’;
He said, ‘None was false to you’.
He said, ‘He had loved her long’;
She said, ‘Love should have no wrong’.
Corydon would kiss her then;
She said, ‘Maids must kiss no men
Till they did for good and all’;
Then she made the shepherd call
All the heavens to witness truth
That never loved a truer youth.
Thus with many a pretty oath,
Yea and nay, and faith and troth,
Such as silly shepherds use
When they will not love abuse,
Love, which had been long deluded,
Was with kisses sweet concluded;
‖: And Phillida with garlands gay :‖
Was made the Lady of the May.