Traditional

I' t' merry taame o' harvestin'
Lang sen, aye well a day!
Oar Nancy, t' bonniest lass i' t' field
Had varra laal to say.
An' Tom whea follow'd, follow'd her,
An' neigh as dumb were he,
An' thof he wark'd some wiv his hands
He harder wark'd his ee.

For Nan were buxom, Nan were fair,
Her lilt were leet an' free;
An' Tom could hardlins hod his wits,
He couldn't hod his ee
Frae Nancy's face; an' her breet smaale
Made Tom's heart lowp an' thump;
Whal Nancy awn'd t' fost kiss he gav,
Her stays mun git a bump

Bud o' ya neet, Tom set her yam,
' Noo, Nance,'tell'd he,' I've gitten
A cauvin' coo, an' twea fat pigs;
Wi' thy fair charms I'm smitten.
Thoo knaws I have a theak, my lass,
An' gear, baith gert an' small,
I've fotty pund ligg'd by at yam,
Tak me, lass, tak it all.'

Nance hing'd her heead an' dropp'd her een,
An' then she sighed, 'Ah, dear!
Noo hod thy whisht, thoo's tell'd t' same tale
To monny a maid, I fear.'
Bud Tom just bowdly sleev'd her waist
An chuck'd her unner t' chin.
'O' Sunday neet,' said he, ' I'll wait
To hug thy milk-skeel in.

(A verse is missing)

She bun' aboot her matchless cauf
Four cletchin' streas, did Nan,
Twea wheaten an' twea oaten streas,
Bud niver tell'd her man.
She platted 'em when t' harvest mean
Her colour'd cheek made pale,
For nea lass plats her band for bairns
And then blirts out her tale.

An' t' mean for sham' ahint a clood
Her smaalin' feace did hide;
Sea nea hedge-skulker gat a peep
At Nan's leg when 't were tied.
An' nean i' t' village would have knawn,
At roond her leg, like thack,
She'd bun' a band to gie her bairns,
Bud she tummel'd offen t' stack,

An' deaz'd she ligg'd, her shapely limb
Laid oot for all to see;
An' roond her leg a platted band
Were bun' belaw her knee.
Then up she sprang, an' laughin' said,
'Noo, Tom warn't here to see;
An' nean can say I's scrawmy cauf'd,
An' t' band still guards my knee.'