And where are you going to?
Must I remain? The passage
whispers endless questions and my answer
is the same: I’m going for to market; a-going
to the fair; going all a-courting, and O what
have you got there? How come that
blood? And what did you? And my
reply: is this? this true? this
false flood of wishes, and pretty
little horses, the lily white
breast, the one I love
the best, tiny sparrow all a-crying, go
to sleep, hush-a-bye, seven
sleepers, bluest eyes—wake you

up, and up, and off, and where
are you going to? I’m going to the fair,
for my true love he is

--come, arise, seven sleepers, close
your eyes, tell me gentle, tell me
true, and where
are you a-going
to?—if I had knowed, if before: and none
as I so ready to unlock my chamber
door; and the pen-knife, and the rose, and my
sweet babe, and my sweet sweet lost
repose: seven sleepers, and the
briar, rest my weary I would fain my bed
a-lie O I will riddle, I will
reply: seven sleepers, seven
sleepers, seven
sleepers, sev
en sleepers,
seven sleep
ers, seven
sleepers
seven
sleepers, and the refrain:

Must I remain?