Brigg Fair - Fernhill

It was on the fifth of August,

The weather fair and mild

When to Brigg Fair I did repair,

For love I was inclined

I rose up with the lark in the morning,

My heart was full of glee

Expecting there to see my love,

Long time I’d wished to see

I looked over my left shoulder

To see what I might see

And there I spied my own true love

Come a-tripping down to me

I took hold of her lily-white hand

And merrily sang my heart

For now we are together

We never more shall part

For the green leaves they will wither,

The roots they’ll all decay

Before that I prove false to her,

the lass that loves me well