Classic Poem

The evening is for love As the morning is for toil
Though the fire is from above The pot is got to boil
A hard days work is mine And I'll live wi' care no more
So I'll see dew come to the woodbine at Isabella's door

Wi' hairy leaves and dro[o]ping flowers The canterberry bell
Grows underneath [the] hazle bower By most folks favoured well
Up the bean stalks creeps the snail The moth sleeps down below
The grey mist creep[s] along And I'll a courting go

I'll gang and Isabella see Nor more i'love repine
By her yard gates the elder tree By her door the streaked woodbine
And red pink bunches on the bed And pansies blue and yellow
The west is gloweing gold and red And I'll gang to Isabella

I'll court her a' the lee lang night And to-morrow being Sunday
I'll rap her in my hearts delight And uggle her till Monday
Her bosom is so fair and white she never had a fellow
I'll gang and stay till broad day light Wi my handsome Isabella