There was a youthe, and a well-beloved youthe,
  And he was a squire’s son;
He loved the bayliffes daughter deare,
  That lived in Islington.

Yet she was coye, and would not believe
  That he did love her soe,
Noe nor at any time would she
  Any countenance to him showe.

But when his friendes did understand
  His fond...