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The butcher shall have her,

Though he gives but a pound, And he knows in his heart,

That my Colly was sound. Sing oh poor Colly, &c,

And when he has bought her,

Let him sell all together, The flesh for to eat,

And the hide for leather. Sing oh poor Colly, &c.

Some say I'm a cuckold,

But I'll swear I am none,
For how can it be

horns are gone. Sing oh poor Colly,

Colly my cow,
For Colly will give me

No more milk now,



For Tom has broke his word with his sweeting,
And lost a good wife for an houres meeting,
Another good fellow bas gotten the lasse,
And Tom may go shake his long eares like an asse.”

To the tune of-Within the North Country.


HEN Titan's fiery steeds
Were lodged in the west,
And every beast and feathered fowl
Betook themselves to rest.

Abroad I walked then
To take the evening's air,
Hard by a gentle gliding stream
I saw a damsel fair.

Sweet Tom, quoth she, make haste,
Why dost thou stay so long?
If thou dost not thy promise keep,
Alas! thou dost me wrong!

Thou know'st I ventured have
To meet thee here to night,
Why then wilt thou for my true love,
Me churlishly requite?

If that my mother knew
That I this time was missing,
To meet with thee she'd swear that I
Should never have her blessing.

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Yet is my love so fixt,
Though I were sure to die,
I would be sure to meet with thee,
Love lends me wings to fly.

But now I well perceive,
When maids love young men best,
They use them like their servile slaves,
And thus I am opprest.

At first they woo and pray,
And many oaths they swear,
Untill like birds they have them caught,
Into their crafty snare.

Then will they be reject,
And scorn us to our face,
Thus for our kindness oft we are

Rewarded with disgrace.
VOL. 1,


This I myself bave proved,
That here I do report,
For he to whom I gave my heart
Makes me his laughing sport.


This night he promised me
To meet at five a clock,
Which hour's long past, therefore I doubt
With me he does but mock.

While I sit sighing here,
He's bragging to his mates,
That his sweet-heart within the fields,
Now for his coming waits.

Thus like a lion fierce
He insulteth o'er his prey,
Alas, there is no remedy,
Being bound I must obey.

Hand hearted creature here,
To serve me in this kind,
His tattring tongue hath wrought my bane,
Is now with grief I find.

Alas, what shall I do,
I am possest with fear,
For rather than I'll homeward

My life I'll finish here.

For if that I go home,
My father he will brawl,
My mother she will second him,
And that's the worst of all,

She'll tell me I have been
A gadding after Tom,
She'll swear I'll never leave these tricks,
Till I come loaden home.

If he would meet me here,
Those words I well could bear,
For when that I am armed with love
Their taunts I do not fear.

Sweet Tom, make haste away,
Or else I shall despair,
For home, untill I see thy face,
I mean not to repair.

What should the reason be,
That thou wilt me neglect?
For I have cast thy betters off,
Thy person to affect.

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