Love's Marketing

Along the lanes from market Folk went by: White along the river-side Mist did lie: Hob rode the grey mare, Rob rode the roan: Then met I a stranger lad Trudging alone. 'How, pray you, tell me, Did the market go? Sold you your wares there High or low?' All in the dusty lanes Tears did fall: 'Love the Fool, Love the Fool, Men me call!' 'Gold for the bay colt, Gold for the brown, For the goodwife's dairying A fine new gown: Silver for the sweet herbs That in the garden grow: What for love, what for love? Nought but woe.' 'Some sell for money, Some for kind: What though your wares be All left behind! Ah, me, the bare board! Ah, the chill morrow! . . . Love the Fool, Love the Fool, Sells for sorrow!'