Classic Poem

Walking in a meadowe greene,
fayre flowers for to gather,
where p[r]imrose rankes did stand on bankes
to welcome comers thither,
I hard a voice w hi ch made a Noise,
w hi ch caused me to attend it,
I heard a lasse say to a Ladd,
" once more, & none can mend it. "

They lay soe close together,
they made me much to wonder;
I knew not w hi ch was wether,
vntill I saw her vnder
then off he came, & blusht for shame
soe soone tha t he had endit;
yet still shee lyes, & to him cryes,
" Once More, & none can mend it. "

His lookes were dull & verry sadd,
his courage shee had tamed;
shee bad him play the lusty lad
or else he quite was shamed;
" then stifly thrust, hee hit me iust,
ffeare not, but freely spend it,
& play about at in & out;
once more, & none can mend it. "

And then he thought to venter her,
thinking the ffitt was on him;
but when he came to enter her,
the poynt turnd backe vpon him.
Yet shee said, " stay! goe not away
although the point be bended!
but toot againe, & hit the vaine!
once more, & none can Mend it. "

Then in her Armes shee did him fold,
& oftentimes shee kist him,
yett still his courage was but cold
for all the good shee wisht him;
yett w i th her hand shee made it stand
soe stiffe shee cold not bend it,
& then anon shee cryes " come on
once more, & none can mend it! "

" Adew, adew, sweet hart, " q uo th hee,
" for in faith I must be gone "
" nay, then you doe me wronge, " q uo th shee,
to leaue me thus alone. "
Away he went when all was spent,
wherat shee was offended;
Like a troian true she made a vow
shee wold have one shold mend it.