Volume Ii Part 19 (1/2)

V. Queen Anne, Queen Anne, She sot in the sun; So fair as a lily, So white as a nun; She had a white glove on, She drew it off, she drew it on.

Turn, ladies, turn.

The more we turn, the more we may, Queen Anne was born on Midsummer Day; We have brought dree letters from the Queen, Wone of these only by thee must be seen.

We can't reade wone, we must reade all, Please ( ) deliver the ball.

-Dorsets.h.i.+re (_Folk-lore Journal_, vii. 229).

VI. Here come we to Lady Queen Anne, With a pair of white gloves to cover our hand; As white as a lily, as fair as the rose, But not so fair as you may suppose.

Turn, ladies, turn.

The more we turn the more we may, Queen Anne was born on Midsummer Day.

The king sent me three letters, I never read them all, So pray, Miss --, deliver the ball.

The ball is yours, and not ours, You must go to the garden and gather the flowers.

The ball is ours, and not yours, We go out and gather the flowers.

-Cornwall (_Folk-lore Journal_, v. 52-53).

VII. Queen Anne, Queen Anne, she sits in the sun, As fair as a lily, so white and wan; A pair of kid gloves she holds in her hand, There's no such a lady in all the fair land.

Turn all.

The more we turn the better we are, For we've got the ball between us.

-North Kelsey, Lincolns.h.i.+re (Miss M. Peac.o.c.k).

VIII. Lady Queen Anne she sits on a stand [sedan], She is fair as a lily, she is white as a swan; A pair of green gloves all over her hand, She is the fairest lady in all the land.

Come taste my lily, come smell my rose, Which of my babes do you choose?

I choose not one, but I choose them all, So please, Miss Nell, give up the ball.

The ball is ours, it is not yours, We will go to the woods and gather flowers; We will get pins to pin our clothes, You will get nails to nail your toes.

-Belfast (W. H. Patterson).

IX. Queen Anne, Queen Anne, she sits in the sun, As fair as a lily, as brown as a bun; We've brought you three letters, pray can you read one?

I can't read one without I read all, So pray -- deliver the ball.

You old gipsy, sit in the sun, And we fair ladies go and come; The ball is mine, and none o' thine, And so good-morning, Valentine.

-Swaffham. Norfolk (Miss Matthews).

X. Queen Anne, Queen Anne, she sits in the sun, As fair as a lily, as brown as a bun.

Turn, fair ladies, turn.