This text comes from Sons of the Tyne's Garland, a historical songbook transcribed on Wikisource and reproduced from the pinned revision linked below.
There was a fair Maiden, her Name it was Gillian,
Her Manners were Sage, tho' her Carriage was free,
You scarcely would meet such a Girl in a Million,
Her Charms were the Pride of the North Country;
All she said, came so wittily,
She danc'd with such Grace, and she chaunted so prettily.
No Madames of France, nor Signiora's of Italy,
Could cope with this Lass of the North Country.
Oh Lords, and fine Gentlemen, crowed to woo her,
Each begging her most humble Servant to be,
One brought Coach and Horses, some proffer'd Gold to her
Some Cloaths and fine Jewels most Splendid to see,
But in vain, all their Brav'ry
She said flat and plain, that she saw thro' their Knav'ry,
And rather would spend her whole Life-time in slav'ry,
Than bring such Disgrace on the North Country.
⟨On⟩ going one Day to the Wood with young Roger,
To gather sweet Posies for he, and for she,
⟨A⟩ Cupid observ'd them, a comical Codger,
And hid himself under a Sycamore Tree,
Out he drew, from his Quiver,
A Shaft that a Heart made of Marble would shiver,
He Shot—there was none a poor Maid to deliver,
And wounded this Lass of the North Country.
Young Roger determin'd his Mind to discover,
Saluted fair Gillian so Charming and free,
Then begg'd her Consent in the Strain of a Lover,
In chaste Wedlock Bands, his Bride for to be,
She agreed—Vows were plighted.
And they with each other, were so well delighted
That Hymen and Cupid, their Hearts both united,
And blest the sweet Lass of the North Country.