An arrangement of uncertain provenance.

Lyrics: Nicholas Breton

In the merry month of May,
On a morn by break of day,
Forth I walked the wood so wild,
When as May was in her pride
There I spied all alone
Phillida and Corydon.

Much ado there was, God wot,
He did love but she could not;
He said his love was ever true,
She said none was false to you.
He said he had loved her long,
She said love should I take no wrong.