Why didn’t you say you was promised, Rose-Ann?

   Why didn’t you name it to me,

Ere ever you tempted me hither, Rose-Ann,

   So often, so wearifully?

O why did you let me be near ’ee, Rose-Ann,

   Talking things about wedlock so free,

And never by nod or by whisper, Rose-Ann,

   Give a hint that it wasn’t to be?

Down home I was raising a flock of stock ewes,

   Cocks and hens, and wee chickens by scores,

And lavendered linen all ready to use,

   A-dreaming that they would be yours.

Mother said: “She’s a sport-making maiden, my son”;

   And a pretty sharp quarrel had we;

O why do you prove by this wrong you have done

   That I saw not what mother could see?

Never once did you say you was promised, Rose-Ann,

   Never once did I dream it to be;

And it cuts to the heart to be treated, Rose-Ann,

   As you in your scorning treat me!