It's Impossible

The Bailiff's Daughter Of Islington
(Traditional)



There was a youth, and a well belov'd youth
And he was a esquire's son
He loved the bailiff's daughter dear
That lived in Islington

She was coy, and she would not believe
That he did love her so
No, nor at any time she would
Any countenance to him show

But when his friends did understand
His fond and foolish mind
They sent him up to fair London
An apprentice for to bind

And when he had been seven long years
And his love he had not seen
Many a tear have I shed for her sake
When she little thought of me

All the maids of Islington
Went forth to sport and play
All but the bailiff's daughter dear
She secretly stole away

She put off her gown of gray
And put on her puggish attire
She's up to fair London gone
Her true-love to require

As she went along the road
The weather being hot and dry
There was she aware of her true-love
At length come riding by

She stept to him, as red as any rose
And took him by the bridle ring
"I pray you, kind sir, give me one penny
To ease my weary limb"

"I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me
Where that thou wast born?"
"At Islington, kind sir," said she
"where I have had many a scorn"

"I prithee, sweetheart, canst thou tell me
Whether thou dost know
The bailiff's daughter of Islington?"
"She's dead, sir, long ago"

"Then will I sell my goodly steed
My saddle and my bow
I will into some far country
Where no man doth me know"

"O stay, O stay, thou goodly youth!
She's alive, she is not dead
Here she standeth by thy side
And is ready to be thy bride"