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| RIDDLES WISELY EXPOUNDED
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| As you will go down Rosemary Lane, | .virgo et diabolus. Wol ye here a wonder thynge |
| Where every rose grows merry and fine, | Betwyxt a mayd and the fovle fende? |
| Oh, you'll pick me out the finest girl there, | Thys spake the fend to the mayd: |
| And I will make her a true lover of mine. | "Beleue on me, mayd, to day. |
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| Oh, tell her to get me a camberic shirt, | Mayd, mote y thy leman be, |
| Every rose grows merry and fine, | Wyssedom y wolle teche the: |
| To be done without needle or needle's work, | All the wyssedom off the world, |
| And then she will be a true lover of mine. | Hyf thou wolt be true and forward holde. |
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| And tell her to wash it in yonder well, | "What ys hyer than ys the tre? |
| Every rose grows merry and fine, | What ys dypper than ys the see? |
| Where water ne'er sprung nor rain never fall, | What ys scharpper than ys the thorne? |
| Then she will be a true lover of mine. | What ys loder than ys the horne? |
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| And tell her to dry it on yonder sharp thorn, | "What ys longger than ys the way? |
| Every rose grows merry and fine, | What ys rader than ys the day? |
| For one of her rose since Adam was born, | What ys bether than is the bred? |
| Then she will be a true lover of mine. | What ys strenger than ys the dede? |
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| When she is finished all of her work, | "What ys grenner than ys the wode? |
| Every rose grows merry and fine, | What ys sweetter than ys the note? |
| Oh, tell her I'll got her camberic shirt, | What ys swifter than ys the wynd? |
| Then she will be a true lover of mine. | What ys recher than ys the kynge? |
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| And as you will go down Rosemary Lane, | "What ys yeluer ys the wex? |
| Where every rose grows merry and fine, | What ys softer than ys the flex? |
| Oh, you'll pick me out the finest boy there, | But thou now answery me, |
| And I will make him a true lover of mine. | Thu schalt for sothe my leman be." |
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| Tell him to get me an acre of land, | "Ihesu, for thy myld myghth, |
| Every rose grows merry and fine, | As thu art kynge and knyght, |
| Between the salt sea and the salt-sea sand, | Lene me wisdome to answer here ryghth |
| And then he will be a true lover of mine. | And schylde me fram the fovle wyghth! |
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| Tell him to plough it with a ram's horn, | "Hewene ys heyer than ys the tre, |
| Every rose grows merry and fine, | Helle ys dypper than ys the see, |
| And sow it all over with one ben of corn, | Hongyr ys scharpper than ys the thorne, |
| Then he will be a true lover of mine. | Thonder ys lodder than ys the horne. |
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| Tell him to reap it with a cock's feather, | "Loukynge ys longer than ys the way, |
| Every rose grows merry and fine, | Syn is rader than ys the day. |
| And bind it all over with strappings of leather, | Godys flesse ys betur than ys the brede, |
| Then he will be a true lover of mine. | Payne ys strenger than ys the dede. |
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| And tell him to drive home on a snail, | "Gras ys grenner than ys the wode, |
| Every rose grows merry and fine, | Loue ys swetter than ys the notte. |
| And thrash it all over with a mouse's tail, | Thowt ys swifter than ys the wynde, |
| And then he will be a true lover of mine. | Ihesus ys recher than ys the kynge. |
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| And when he has finished all of his work, | "Safer is yeluer than ys the wexs, |
| Every rose grows merry and fine, | Selke ys softer than ys the flex. |
| Oh, tell him to call for his camberic shirt, | Now, thu fende, styl thu be; |
| And then he will be a true lover of mine. | Nelle ich speke no more with the!" |
