Classic Poem

Come blithefull Neatherds, let us lay
A wager, who the best shall play,
Of thee, or I, the Roundelay,
That fits the businesse of the Day.

Chor. And Lallage the Judge shall be,
To give the prize to thee, or me.

Content, begin, and I will bet
A Heifer smooth, and black as jet,
In every part alike compleat,
And wanton as a Kid as yet.

Chor. And Lallage (with cow-like eyes)
Shall be Disposeresse of the prize.

Against thy Heifer, I will here
Lay to thy stake a lustie Steere,
With gilded hornes, and burnisht cleere.
Chor. Why then begin, and let us heare
The soft, the sweet, the mellow note
That gently purles from eithers Oat.

The stakes are laid: let's now apply
Each one to make his melody:
Lal. The equall Umpire shall be I,
Who'l hear, and so judge righteously.

Chor. Much time is spent in prate; begin,
And sooner play, the sooner win.
[He playes.

That's sweetly touch't, I must confesse:
Thou art a man of worthinesse:
But hark how I can now expresse
My love unto my Neatherdesse.
[He sings.

Chor. A suger'd note! and sound as sweet
As Kine, when they at milking meet.

Now for to win thy Heifer faire,
I'le strike thee such a nimble Ayre,
That thou shalt say (thy selfe) 'tis rare;
And title me without compare.

Chor. Lay by a while your Pipes, and rest,
Since both have here deserved best.

To get thy Steerling, once again,
I'le play thee such another strain;
That thou shalt swear, my Pipe do's raigne
Over thine Oat, as Soveraigne.
[He sings.

Chor. And Lallage shall tell by this,
Whose now the prize and wager is.

Give me the prize: 2. The day is mine:
Not so; my Pipe has silenc't thine:
And hadst thou wager'd twenty Kine,
They were mine own. Lal. In love combine.

Chor. And lay we down our Pipes together,
As wearie, not o'recome by either.