Oh! my swetynge!

Oh! my swetynge! My lyttell prety swetynge,

My swetynge will I love wherever I go,

She is so proper and pure,

Full stedfast, stabill and demure,

There is none such, ye may be sure,

As my lyttell swetynge.

In all thys world, as thynketh me,

Is none so pleasant to my eye,

That I am glad so oft to see,

As my swete swetynge.

When I behold my swetynge swete,

Her face, her hands, her minion feet,

They seem to me there's none so mete

As my swete swetynge.

Oh! my swetynge! My lyttell prety swetynge,

My swetynge will I love wherever I go,

She is so proper and pure,

Full stedfast, stabill and demure,

There is none such, ye may be sure,

As my lyttell swetynge.