Twas under Primrose Hill there liv'd,
A sweet and pretty maid,
Not Venus could give more delight,
When you her charms survey'd.
For the lilies there and the roses fair,
They did combine and both entwine,
To form a beauty rare.
This fair one many suitors had,
But treated them with scorn,
Till William who could play and dance,
Came tripping o'er the lawn...
‘Sweet maid of Primrose Hill he cry'd,
I come a whooing here,
Then do not thou my love reject,
Nor treat me too severe...'
(The maid tells him he's got a cheek, she has plenty of rich suitors who...)
‘Have offered me their bride to be,
So you do come too late.’
Then William hung his head with grief,
And said ‘proud girl adieu,
I'll quit your charms for war's alarms,
And glory I'll pursue... '
(But she was only teasing.)
Then with a smile she called him back,
And said ‘dear William stay,
I did but jest to see your love,
So go not now away.'
This an 18th century lyric.