It was on the fifth of August the weather fine and fair
Unto Brigg Fair I did repair, for love I was inclined

I got up with the lark in the morning, with my heart so full of glee
Of thinking there to meet my dear, long time I'd wished to see

I took hold of her lily-white hand, O and merrily was her heart:
"And now we're met together, I hope we never part"

For it's meeting is a pleasure, and parting is a grief
But an unconstant lover is worse than any thief

The green leaves they shall wither and the branchеs they shall die
If evеr I prove false to her, the girl that loves me