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