Reynadine

One evening as I rambled among the springing thyme
I overheard a young woman conversing with Reynardine.

Her hair was black, and her eyes were blue, her lips as red as wine.
And he smiled as he gazed upon her, did that sly bold Reynardine.

She said, “Young man, be civil; my company forsake.
For to my good opinion, I fear you are a rake.”

He said, "My dear, I am no rake brought up in Venus' train.
But I'm searching for concealment all from the judge's men.”

Her ruby lips, her rosy cheeks, they lost their former dye.
And she fell into his arms there all on the mountain high.

They hadn't kissed but once or twice 'til she come to again.
And modestly she asked him pray tell to me your name.

He says, “If by chance you look for me, I fear you'll not me find.
But I'll be in my castle, enquire for Reynardine.”

Day and night she followed him, his teeth did shine.
And he led her o'er the mountain, did that sly bold Reynardine.

One evening as I rambled among the springing thyme
I overheard a young woman conversing with Reynardine.