One evening there did ramble across the hills so fine A lady fair who thought to dare converse with Reynardine Her hair was black, her eyes were blue, her lips were red as wine And he smiled to gaze upon her, that sly bold Reynardine She said: "Strange sir, be civil — my company forsake For I'm a noble damsel, and you are just some rake." "Oh no," said he, "no rake am I, caught up in Cupid's train I'm a pilgrim traveller who's heading home again I have no wife to call my own or spend my wealth upon A lonesome bed I sadly keep between the dusk and dawn If by chance you search for me, to make my fortune thine You'll find me in my castle. Enquire for Reynardine." Sun and dark she followed him, and his teeth did brightly shine As he led her into the mountains That sly old Reynardine That sly old Reynardine