THE father’s name ye ne’er shall be told
Of my darling unborn life;
“Shame, shame,” ye cry, “on the strumpet bold!”
Yet I’m an honest wife.
To whom I’m wedded, ye ne’er shall be told,
Yet he’s both loving and fair;
He wears on his neck a chain of gold,
And a hat of straw doth he wear.
If scorn ’tis vain to seek to repel,
On me let the scorn be thrown.
I know him well, and he knows me well,
And to God, too, all is known.
Sir Parson and Sir Bailiff, again,
I pray you, leave me in peace!
My child it is, my child ’twill remain,
So let your questionings cease!