A maid sings light, and a maid sings low

A maid sings light, and a maid sings low,

With a merry, merry laugh in her eyes of sloe,

I tell thee lad have a care, nor dare,

Lest thou lose thy heart in the fair one's snare,

And doth she pout, and doth she sigh,

Ne'er go too close, nor dry her eye,

I tell thee lad have a care, she's fair,

She'll surely laugh thy prayer to air,

For a maid loves light, and a maid loves so,

That a merry, merry laugh will answer thy woe,

I tell thee lad, have a care, nor dare,

Lest thou lose thy heart in the fair one's snare.