Who made thee Hob forsake the Plough, and fall in love?
Sweet beauty which hath power to bow the gods above

What, dost thou serve a shepherdess?
Ay, such as hath no peer I guess

What is her name who bears thy heart within her breast?
Sylvana fair of high desert whom I love best

Oh Hob, I fear she looks too high
Yet love I must or else I die

Oh Hob, I fear she looks too high
Yet love I must or else I die
Or else I die. I die