The Suprised Nymph

Source: Coeur d'Ennui Letchers Guild Songbook Edited by William Coeur du Boeuf;
Thomas D'Urfey's Songs of Wit and Mirth, or Pills to purge Melancholy
Note from Letchers Guild Songbook:
Also collected in A Collection of Old Ballads (1723); that book claims the song is based on an actual incident.

The four and twentieth day of May
Of all days in the year, sir,
A virgin lady, fresh and gay,
Did privately appear, sir.
Hard by a river side which she,
Did single out the rather.
'Cause she was sure she was secure,
And had intent to bath her.

With glittering, glancing, jealous eyes,
She shyly looked around, sir,
To see if any lurking spies
Were hid to find her out, sir;
And being well resolved that none,
Could see her nakedness, sir,
She pulled her robes off one by one,
And did herself underss, sir.

Her purple mantle fringed with gold,
Her ivory hands unpinned, sir;
It would have made a coward bold,
Or tempt a saint to sin, sir.
She turned around and looked about,
Quoth she: "I home I'm safe, sir!"
Then her rosy petticoat
She presently put off, sir.

Into a fluent stream she leapt,
She looked like Venus' glass, sir!
The fishes from all quarters crept
To see so fair a lass, sir.
She did so like a vision look,
Or fancy in a dream, sir,
'Twas thought the sun the skies forsook,
And dropped into the stream, sir.

Each fish did with himself a man--
About her all were drawn, sir,
And at the sight of her began
To spread about their spawn, sir.
She turned to swim upon her back,
And so displayed her banner:
If Jove had then in heaven been,
He would have dropped upon her.

A lad that long her love had been,
And could obtain no grace, sir,
For all her prying lay unseen,
Hid in a secret place, sir,
Who had often been repulsed
When he had come to woo her,
Pulled off his clothes, and furiously
Did run and leap into her.

She squeaked, she cried, and down she dived;
He brought her up again, sir,
He brought her o'er upon the shore,
And then...and then...and then, sir,
As Adam did old Eve enjoy,
You may guess what I mean, sir;
Because she all uncovered lay,
He covered her again, sir.

With watered eyes, she pants and cries,
"I'm utterly undone, sir,
If you will not be wed to me
E'er the next morning sun, sir!"
He answered her he ne'er would stir
Out of her sight till then, sir:
"We'll both clasp hands in wedlock bands,
Marry--and to it again, sir!"

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