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I scorn to think of

poverty,
Or wanting food and cloathing,
I'll be maintained gallantly,

And all my life want nothing,
A frolick mind I'll always bear,

My poverty shall not appear,
Though I have but a mark a year,

And that my mother gave me.

Though I am but a silly wench

Of country education,
Yet I am woo'd by Dutch and French,

And almost every nation:
Both Spaniards and Italians swear,

That with their hearts they love me dear,
Yet I have but a mark a year,

And that my mother gave me.

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The Welch, the Irish, and the Scot,

Since I came to the city,
In love to me are wondrous hot,

They tell me I am pretty :
Therefore to live I will not fear,

For I am sought with many a tear,
Yet I have but a mark a year,

And that my mother gave me.

This London is a gallant place,

To raise a lass's fortune,
For I that came of simple race,

Brave roarers do importune:
I little thought in Worcestershire,

To find such high preferment here,
For I have but a mark a year,
And that

my
mother

gave me,

One gives to me perfumed gloves,

The best that he can buy me, Live where I will I have the loves

Of all that do live nigh me, If any new toys I will wear,

I have them, cost they ne'er so dear, And this is for a mark a year,

And that my mother gave me.

My fashions with the moon I change,

As though I were a lady; All quaint conceits, both new and strange,

I'll have as soon as may be: Your courtly ladies I can jeer,

In clothes but few to me come near, Yet I have but a mark a year,

And that my mother gave me.

SECOND PART.

French gowns, with sleeves like pudding-bags,

I have at my requesting, Now I forget my country rags,

And scorn such plain investing My old acquaintance I cashier,

And of my kin I hate to hear; Though I have but a mark a year, And that my

mother

gave me.

My petticoats of scarlet brave,

Of velvet, silk, and sattin,
Some students oft my love do crave,

That speak both Greek and Latin;
The soldiers for me domineer,

And put the rest into great fear, All this is for a mark a year,

And that my mother gave me.

The Precisian sincerely woos,

And doth protest he loves me,
He tires me out with ayes and no's,

And to impatience moves me,
Although an oath he will not swear,

To lie at no time doth he fear, All this is for a mark a year,

And that my mother gave me.

My coach, drawn with four Flanders mares,

Each day attends my pleasure, The watermen will leave their fares,

To wait upon my leisure, Two lackies labor every where,

And at my word run far and near, Though I have but a mark a year,

And that my mother gave me.

In the pleasantest place the suburbs yield,

My lodging is prepared,
I can walk forth into the fields,

Where beauties oft are aired &
When gentlemen do spy me there,

Some compliments I'm sure to hear,
Though I have but a mark a year,
And that

my
mother

gave me.

And if my friends were living still,

I would them all abandon,
Though I confess they loved me well,

Yet I so like of London :
That farewell Dad and Mammy dear,

And all my friends in Worcestershire,
I live well with a mark a year,

Which my old mother gave me.

I would my sister Sue at home,

Knew how I live in fashion,
That she might up to London come,

To learn this occupation :
For I live like a lady here,

I wear good clothes and eat good cheer, Yet I have but a mark a year,

And that my mother gave me.

Now blessed be that happy day,

That I came to the city,
And for the carrier will I pray,

Before I end my ditty.
You maidens that this, ditty hear,

Though means be short yet never fear, For I live with a mark year,

Which my old mother gave me.

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