(The first two lines are old.)
HEY Robin, jolly Robin,
Tell me how thy lady doth?
Is she laughing, is she sobbing
Is she gay, or grave, or both?

Is she like the finch, so merry,
Lilting in her father's hall?
Or the crow with cry a very
Plague to each, a plague to all.

Is she like the violet breathing
Blessings on her native place?
Or the cruel nettle scathing
All who dare approach her grace?

Is she like the dew-drop sparkling
When the morn peeps o'er the land?
Or the cloud in mid-air darkling,
When a fearful storm's at hand?

Tut, to count the freaks of woman,
Count the pebbles of the seas;
Rob, thy lady's not uncommon,
Be or do she what she please!