Maids they are grown so coy of late,

Forsooth, they will not marry!

Though they be in their teens and past

They say they yet can tarry.

But if they knew how sweet a thing

It were in youth to marry,

They’d sell their petticoats, smocks and all 

Ere they so long would tarry.

The lass that is most coy of all,

If she had time and leisure

Would lay by all her several thoughts

And turn to love and pleasure.

Winter nights are long, you know,

And bitter cold the weather. 

Then who’s so fond to lie alone

When two may lie together?