There was a lady fine and gay,
She looked so neat and trim,
She went into her own garden-wall,
To see her ships come in.
And there she spies her daughter Jane,
Who looked so pale and wan:
�Oh, have you had some long sickness,
Or lain ye with some young man?�
�No, I have had no long sickness,
Nor lain here with a man:�
Her petticoats they were so short,
She was a nine months gone
She was a nine months gone
�Oh is it by some nobleman?
Or by some man of fame?
Or is it by John Barbary,
Who lately come from Spain?�
�No, it is by a nobleman,
Nor by no man of fame;
But it is by John Barbary,
Who lately come from Spain.�
And she's calld down her merry men,
By one, by two, by three;
John Barbary was once the first,
But now the last came he.
�Oh will you take my daughter Jane,
And wed her out of hand?
And you will dine and sup with me,
And be heir to all my land.�
�Oh, I will take your daughter Jane,
And wed her out of hand;
And I will dine and sup with you,
But I do not want your land.�
For I have houses and I have land
And money out by the grand
And had it not been for your daughter
I'd never be your man, I'd never be your man