I lov’d a lasse, a faire one, As faire as e’er was seene; She was, indeed, a rare one, Another Sheba queen; But, foole, as then I was, I thought she lov’d me too; But, now, alasse! sh’as left me, Falero, lero, loo. Her haire, like gold, did glister; Each eye was like a starre; She did surpasse her sister, Which past all others farre: She would me hony call: She’d, oh, she’d kisse me too! But, now, alasse! sh’as left me, Falero, lero, loo. In summer-time, to Medley My love and I would goe— The boatmen there stood readie My love and I to rowe; For creame there would we call, For cakes, and for prunes too; But, now, alasse! sh’as left me, Falero, lero, loo.