Poor Kit hath lost her key
But I have one will fit
Her lock if she will try
And do not me deny
I hope she hath more wit.
My key is bright, not rusty;
It is so oft applied
To locks that are not dusty
Of maidens that are lusty
And not too full with pride.
Then Kit, be not too proud,
But try my ready key
That oft hath been allowed
By ladies, fair a crowd,
The best that e'er they see.
You can but try, and then
If it fit not, good-bye;
Go to some other man
And see if any can
Do better, Kit, than I.
But ne'er come back to mee
When you have gone away
For I shall keep my key
For others, not for thee,
So either go or stay.