Classic Poem

With merry lark this maiden rose,
And straight about the house she goes,
With swapping besom in her hand;
And at her girdle in a band
A jolly bunch of keys she wore;
Her petticoat fine laced before,
Her tail tucked up in trimmest guise,
A napkin hanging o'er her eyes,
To keep off dust and dross of walls,
That often from the windows falls.
Though she was smug, she took small ease,
For thrifty girls are glad to please;
She won the love of all the house,
And pranked it like a pretty mouse,
And sure at every word she spake,
A goodly curtsy could she make;
A stirring housewife every where,
That bent both back and bones to bear.
She never sleeped much by night,
But rose sometimes by candle-light
To card and spin, or sew her smock;
There could no sooner crow a cock,
But she was up, to sleek her clothes,
And would be sweet as any rose.
Full cleanly still the girl would go
And handsome in a house also,
As ever saw I country wench.
She sweeped under every bench,
And shaked the cushions in their kind;
When out of order she did find
A rush, a straw or little stick,
She could it mend, she was so quick
About her business every hour.
This maid was called her mistress' flower.
She bare the keys of ale and beer,
And had the rule of better cheer.
She was not nice, nor yet too kind,
Too proud, nor of too humble mind,
Too fine, nor yet too brave, I trow.
She had, as far as I do know,
Two fair new kirtles to her back;
The one was blue, the other black.
For holy days she had a gown,
And every yard did cost a crown,
And more by eighteen pence, I guess;
She had three smocks, she had no less,
Four rails and eke five kerchers fair.
Of hose and shoes she had a pair;
She needed not no more to have;
She would go barefoot for to save
Her shoes and hose, for they were dear.
She went to town but once a year,
At Easter or some other day,
When she had licence for to play.
I had forgotten for to tell,
She had a purse she loved well,
That hanged at a ribbon green,
With tassels fair, and well beseen;
And as for gloves and knives full bright
She lacked not, nor trifles light,
As pins and laces of small cost.
I have to you rehearsed most
Of all her goods. Now to the form
And making of this creeping worm.
Her port was low, her face was fair;
It came no sooner in the air,
But it would peel, her cheeks were thin.
God knows she had a tender skin.
The worst mis-shape this minion had,
Her legs were swollen very bad;
Some heavy humour down did fall.
Her foot was narrow, short and small,
Her body slender as a snig;
But sure her buttocks were full big;
That came, I think, from sitting mich;
And in her side she had a stitch,
That made her oft short-winded, sure.
But her complexion was full pure.
She was well made from top to tail;
Yea, all her limbs, withouten fail,
Were fine and feat. She had a hand,
There was no fairer in the land,
Save that with toil it changed hue.
Her fingers small, her veins full blue;
Her nails a little largely grown;
Her hair much like the sun it shone;
Her eyes as black as jet did seem;
She did herself full well esteem.
Her lips were red, but somewhat chapped.
Her tongue was still and seldom clapped.
She spake as she were in a cloud,
Neither too soft nor yet too loud,
And tripped upon the floor as trim,
Ye would have thought that she did swim
As she did go, such was her pace.
She minced fine, like Mistress Grace,
That at the Dagger dwelled once,
Who made good pies of marrow-bones.
I dare depose upon a book,
She was as good a maiden cook,
As ever dressed a piece of meat;
And for a banquet, small or great,
And raising paste, she passed still.
As soon as flour came from the mill,
She made the goodliest cakes thereof,
And baked as fair a household loaf,
As e'er was seen or set on board.
What needs more talk? At one bare word,
The greatest lady in a shire
She might have served seven year.