Balow, my babe, lye still and sleipe!
It grieves me sair to see thee weipe:
If thoust be silent, Ise be glad,
Thy maining maks my heart ful sad.
Balow my boy, thy mothers joy,
Thy father breides me great annoy.
Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe,
It grieves me sair to see thee weipe.

Whan he began to court my luve,
And with his sugred wordes me muve,
His faynings fals and flattering cheire
To me that time did not appeire:
But now I see, most cruell hee
Cares neither for my babe nor mee.
Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe,
It grieves me sair to see thee weipe.

Lye still, my darling, sleipe a while,
And when thou wakest, sweitly smile:
But smile not, as thy father did,
To cozen maids: nay, God forbid!
But yett I feire, thou wilt gae neire
Thy fatheris hart and face to beire.
Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe,
 It grieves me sair to see thee weipe.

I cannae chuse but ever will
Be luving to thy father still;
Whair-eir he gae, whair-eir he ryde,
My luve with him doth still abyde:
In weil or wae, whair-eir he gae,
My hart can neire depart him frae.
Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe,
It grieves me sair to see thee weipe.

But doe not, doe not, prettie mine,
To faynings fals thy hart incline;
Be loyal to thy luver trew,
And nevir change hir for a new:
If good or fair, of her have care,
For womens banning's wonderous sair.
Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe,
It grieves me sair to see thee weipe.

Bairne, sin thy cruel father is gane,
Thy winsome smiles maun else my paine:
My babe and I'll together live,
He'll comfort me when cares doe grieve:
My babe and I right saft will ly,
And quite forgeit man's cruelty.
Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe,
It grieves me sair to see thee weipe.

Fareweil, fareweil, the falsest youth,
That evir kist a womans mouth!
I wish all maides be warnd by mee
Nevir to trust man's curtesy;
For if we doe bot chance to bow,
They'll use us then they care not how.
Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe,
It grieves me sair to see thee weipe.