A Few Figs From Thistles: The Merry Maid

The Merry Maid

Oh, I am grown so free from care
  Since my heart broke!
I set my throat against the air,
  I laugh at simple folk!
There's little kind and little fair
  Is worth its weight in smoke
To me, that's grown so free from care
  Since my heart broke!
Lass, if to sleep you would repair
  As peaceful as you woke,
Best not besiege your lover there
  For just the words he spoke
To me, that's grown so free from care
  Since my heart broke!

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