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.