Classic Poem

The gardener stands in his bower-door,
With a primrose in his hand,
And by there came a leal maiden,
As jimp 's a willow wand.
And by, etc.

‘O lady, can you fancy me,
For to be my bride,
You 'll get a' the flowers in my garden,
To be to you a weed.

‘The lily white shall be your smock;
Becomes your body neat;
And your head shall be deckd with jelly-flower,
And the primrose in your breast.

‘Your gown shall be o the sweet-william,
Your coat o camovine,
And your apron o the sallads neat,
That taste baith sweet and fine.

‘Your stockings shall be o the broad kail-blade,
That is baith broad and long;
And narrow, narrow at the coot,
And broad, broad at the brawn.

‘Your gloves shall be the marygold,
All glittering to your hand,
Well spread oer wi the blue blaewort,
That grows in corn-land.’

‘O fare you well, young man,’ she says,
‘Farewell, and I bid adieu;
Since you 've provided a weed for me,
Among the summer flowers,
Then I 'll provide another for you,
Among the winter showers.

‘The new-fallen snow to be your smock;
Becomes your body neat;
And your head shall be deckd with the eastern wind,
And the cold rain on your breast.’