The Shepherd Doron's Jig

Through the shrubs as I can crack,
For my lambs, pretty ones,
'Mongst many little ones.
Nymphs I mean, whose hair was black
As the crow,
Like as the snow
Her face and brow shined I ween,
I saw a little one,
A bonny pretty one.
As bright, buxom, and as sheen
As was she
On her knee
That lull'd the god whose arrows warms
Such merry little ones,
Such fair-faced pretty ones,
As dally in Love's chiefest harms.
Such was mine
Whose grey eyen
Made me love; I gan to woo
This sweet little one,
This bonny pretty one.
I woo'd hard a day or two.

Till she bade,
" Be not sad,
Woo no more, I am thine own,
Thy dearest little one.
Thy truest pretty one."
Thus was faith and firm love shown,
As behoves
Shepherds' loves.