It was in the month of May, when the lambs do skip and play,
And the birds sing sweetly at the dawn.
I met a country maid, and unto her I said,
"Let me wind up your little ball of yarn."
"Yerra, no, kind sir" says she, "You're a stranger I can see,
And though I admire your northern charm,
I prefer to let one of those, with fine manners and fine clothes
Wind up me little ball of yarn."
So I took her to a nook right beside the shady brook,
Not meaning to do her any harm.
She looked into my face, locked her legs around me waist
And says, "Wind up me little ball of yarn."
Then she stood up, took her skirt from ‘round her waist
And she went happily down the lane.
I went skippin' o'er the green, for fear that I'd been seen
Winding up her little ball of yarn.
So come all you young maids, and hark to what I say,
Do not go out walking in the morn.
But like the blackbird keep your head beneath your wing
And your hand upon your little ball of yarn.