The little town of Nerac,
They say it is so fair;
The little town of Nerac,
Three pretty girls are there.

The prettiest one of all the three
Is loved by the king's son;
She is up in the early morning,
And to the vineyard gone.

The king's son he has seen her;
He follows her afar;
But he has lost her from his sight
Where the branches thickest are.

He meets with a vine-dresser,
A-pruning of his vine;
" O vine-dresser, vine-dresser!
A-pruning of your vine,
Tell me, have you seen Marguerite,
A sweetheart of mine? "

" No, surely, monsieur,
I give you my word,
Not a maid this morning
Have I seen or heard. "

" I would give a hundred ecus
To one would show her me;
Nay, I would give far more than that,
I would give thousands three. "

" Count out your money, monsieur,
Enter my vineyard here;
Look down below to yonder tree;
Is not that your dear? "

She has made a little bower,
Of the flowers that grow most sweet;
" Pray you make another
For me, Marguerite. "

" No, monsieur, I cannot;
The rosemary is dead;
The roses are all fallen,
And the sage is withered. "