Who was there had seen us
Wouldn't bid him run?
Heavy lay between us
All our sires had done

There he was, a-springing
Of a pious race
Setting hags a-swinging
In a market-place

Sowing turnips over
Where the poppies lay
Looking past the clover
Adding up the hay

Shouting through the Spring song
Clumping down the sod
Toadying, in sing-song
To a crabbed god

There I was, that came of
Folk of mud and name
I that had my name of
Them without a name

Up and down a mountain
Streeled my silly stock
Passing by a fountain
Wringing at a rock

Devil-gotten sinners
Throwing back their heads
Fiddling for their dinners
Kissing for their beds

Not a one had seen us
Wouldn't help him flee
Angry ran between us
Blood of him and me

How shall I be mating
Who have looked above
Living for a hating
Dying of a love?