The Roxburghe ballads . he masters your breeches, and takes your riches,While we have more joys by a harmless kiss. 54 No youth here need willow wear, No beauteous maid will her Lover destroy: The gentle little Lass will yield In the soft daisy field, Freely our pleasures we here enjoy:No great Juno we boldly defie,With young Chris cheeks, or fair Cellos eye ;We let all those things alone, and enjoy your own,Every night with our Beauties lie. 63 Printed for P. Broolcsly, at the Golden Ball, in Pye- Comer. [In Black-letter. Three cuts: two on p. 29, and the man with staff on p. , as Lice
The Roxburghe ballads . he masters your breeches, and takes your riches,While we have more joys by a harmless kiss. 54 No youth here need willow wear, No beauteous maid will her Lover destroy: The gentle little Lass will yield In the soft daisy field, Freely our pleasures we here enjoy:No great Juno we boldly defie,With young Chris cheeks, or fair Cellos eye ;We let all those things alone, and enjoy your own,Every night with our Beauties lie. 63 Printed for P. Broolcsly, at the Golden Ball, in Pye- Comer. [In Black-letter. Three cuts: two on p. 29, and the man with staff on p. , as Licensed, between August, 1685, and December, 1688.] 31 [Roxb. Coll., II. 222 ; Pepys, III. 11; Douce, I. 97 ; Jersey, I. 75 ; C. 22. c. 126.] Ci)e ^unttngtom0!)tre j&iotoman; ©r, the potomanjs Complaint for tge 1000 of fiiss parts* tBtltgfit^ True Love alone, does cause my moan, such sorrows I possess,1 being left of joys bereft, to languish in distress. Tune op, My Child must have a Father. This may be Printed. R. YOung-men and Maids I pray attend, unto a Plow-mans ditty ;It is to you these lines I send, in hopes that you will pittyMy sad and woeful destiny, I being now forsaken ;I thought sbe lovd no man but me, yet I was much mistaken. I counted her my hearts delight, and doated on her beauty ;I could have servd her day and night, and counted it my duty:My love to her I made appear, at ery time and season,Yet I am slighted by my dear, and know not whats the reason. Except the meanness of my state does cause her to refuse me ; But if the truth I may relate, she ought not to abuse me ; And hold my person thus in scorn, in giving the denyal; For tho I am a Ploicman born, my heart is true and loyal. 24 No rest or quiet could I find, my love is out of measure;She still was running in my mind, I counted her my Treasure :But yet at me she still would scoff, instructed by her mother,And at the length did leave me off, and marryd with another. 32 The Huntingtonshire Plough/nans Com
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Keywords: ., bookauthorchappell, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1870, bookyear1879
