For Exmoor, where the red deer run, my weary heart
She that will a rover wed,
far her feet shall hie.
Narrow, narrow, shows the street, dull the narrow sky.
-Buy my cherries, whiteheart
cherries, good my masters,
O he left me, left alone, aye to think and sigh
Lambs feed down yon sunny coombe,
hind and yearling shy
Mid the shrouding vapours walk now like ghosts on high.
Buy my cherries, blackheart
cherries, lads and lasses, buy!
Dear my dear, why did ye so? Evil day have I;
Mark no more the antlerd stag, hear the
Milking at my fathers gate while he leans anigh.
Buy my cherries, whiteheart, blackheart,
golden girls, O