Three seasons almaine

Now is the springtide gay
When lambs frolic and play
And buds burst all around,
Thrush with beauteous song
Thru' each fair Mayday long
Exalts its dulcet sound.
But sweetheart thru' this season, there seems no sense of reason,
For tho' I ask each day
Yet still you answer nay
To be my queen uncrowned

(Chorus:)
Tho' there are no words of romance,
From those lips I long to kiss,
In faith I shall still worthship you
Sweet mistress think on this.

Summer now is here
When days so long and so clear
Grace blossoms cheerful sight,
Cygnets shed their down,
The owls loses its frown,
For milder is the night,
Yet sweethesrt thu' this season there seems no sense of reason
For tho' I beg you still
Our love for to fulfil
Your answer's no outright.

(Chorus)

Autumn's saffron scene
Of apple trees pickled clean
Is pleasing to our eyes,
Shades of ageing gold
Bring comfort from the cold
And brighten grey-clad skies,
Yet sweetheart thru' this season there seems no sense of reason,
For all my pleas to you
Are straightaway shunned 'in the lieu'
Of reasoned replies.

(Chorus)