"Printed for the author by Charles Steart and sold by Messrs Lintern's, Bath and Messrs Longman & Broderip and other Principal Music Sellers in London." Composed, presumably, for use in the Bath concerts.

Lyrics: Peter Sherston

Ye lads and lasses, come away.
The sun hath drank the morning dew,
The flow'rets shrink beneath its ray,
The trefoil and the giltcup too.
Ye lads and lasses, come away.
With fork and rake let's trip along;
See Lubin brings the nut-brown ale.
We'll hear with pleasure Mira's song,
The lovely linnet of the dale.
Ye lads and lasses, come away.

Her toil to lessen be my care,
My care to guard the charming maid,
And when the sun-beams scorch the air,
To lead her to some cooling shade.
Ye lads and lasses, come away.
Then to the sultry bank I'll go,
Whose fragrance lures me to its side,
Where Nature's varied treasures blow,
And rob it of its dappled pride.
Ye lads and lasses, come away.

The creeping woodbine breathing sweet,
The pearly thorn all silver white,
The dripping primrose simply neat,
Still mindful of the loss of light.
Ye lads and lasses, come away.
The modest cowslip richly pied,
Wose hidden charms unnoted lie;
The wild rose too, whose eastern side
Offers a blush of crimson dye.
Ye lads and lasses, come away.

But sweet her breath, as woodbine sweet,
Her bosom white as pearly thorn;
As neat the maid as primrose neat,
Bathed in the tears that meets the morn.
Ye lads and lasses, come away.
Her modest air no merit seeks,
Yet love lies basking in her eye;
Such glowing blushes spread her cheeks,
As mock the rose of crimson dye.
Ye lads and lasses, come away.