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Her name is Noelle
I have a dream about her
Under some spell
I’ve Vespers within the hour
How she is fair
With flowers in her hair
But she knoweth not that I live
And she giveth not a fig about me
For I’m but a greenhorn wagtail, lady
Naught but a hedgeborn blaggard, lady
I'd stand in an iron maiden, lady for thee, oh
Her lord is uncouth
He bringeth a sword to Mass
Knew he but the truth
My hide he would surely thrash
His keep's on the hill
'Tis his fields I till
But he knoweth not that I live
And he giveth not a fig about me
For I’m but a greenhorn wagtail, lady
Naught but a hedgeborn blaggard, lady
I'd stand in an iron maiden, lady for thee, oh
Oh, greenhorn!
She knoweth not what she is missing
Oh, hedgeborn!
She knoweth not what she is missing
I feel overbold
This banquet is far too lofty
Lo and behold
She walketh over to me
Must be some ruse, I'll end in the noose
How doth she know that I live?
And why doth she care a whit about me?
I've two palfreys to flee to fair Arcady
Come with me three days hence, I pray thee
I'm naught but a greenhorn wagtail, truly like thee, oh
Oh, greenhorn!
She knoweth not what she is missing
Oh, hedgeborn!
She knoweth not what she is missing
