A Poem by Anonymous

Quoth John to Joan, will thou have me;
I prithee now, wilt? and I’ll marry thee,
My cow, my calf, my house, my rents,
And all my lands and tenements:

Chorus:
         Oh, say, my Joan, will not that do?
         I cannot come every day to woo.

I’ve corn and hay in the barn hardby,
And three fat hogs pent up in the sty,
I have a mare and she is coal black,
I ride on her tail to save my back.
                           Chorus:

I have a cheese upon the shelf,
And I cannot eat it all myself;
I’ve three good marks that lie in a rag,
In a nook of the chimney, instead of a bag.
                           Chorus:

To marry I would have thy consent,
But faith I never could compliment;
I can say nought but “Hoy, gee ho!”
Words that belong to the cart and the plough.
         So say, my Joan, will not that do,
         I cannot come every day to woo.