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Young men I must tell you true,

I scorn to report a lie :
I am both fair and handsome too,

Yet cannot be married, not I.

My Father is grey and old,

And surely ere long will die, And though he 'll leave me all his gold

Yet cannot be married, not I.

Oh this is my grief and care !

The which I cannot pass by, To think I am my father's heir ;

Yet cannot be married, not I.

I am in distraction hurl'd,

And do for a husband cry,
It's more to me than all the world

Yet cannot be married, not I.

I am a poor love-sick girl,

And ready with grief to die, I proffer'd jewels and gold,

Yet cannot be married, not I.

In silks I am still array'd,

And ev'ry new fashion buy, Because I'm loth to die a maid,

Yet cannot be married, not I.

I paint and I powder still,

To tempt all that I come nigh, But yet let me do what I will,

Yet cannot be married, not I.

There's n'er a lass in town,

For beauty can me come nigh, But fortune she has sent a frown,

I cannot be married, not I.

The gold which I have in store,

I value no more than clay, I'd give all had I ten times more,

So I might be married to day,




Who in this ditty here complaining shews What harm she got milking her daddy's ewes."

To a pleasant Scotch tune called The Broom of Cowdon


Through Liddersdale as lately I went,

I musing on did pass,
I heard a maid was discontent,

She sigh'd and said, alas !
All maids that ever deceived were,

Bear a part of these my woes,
For once I was a bonny lass

When I milkt my daddy's ewes. With the broom, the bonny broom,

The broom of Cowdon Knowes, Fain would I be in the north country,

To milk my daddy's ewes.

My love into the fields did come

When my daddy was at home, Sugar'd words he gave me there,

Prais'd me for such a one,

His honey breath and lips so oft,

And his alluring eye, And tempting tongue hath woo'd me oft, Now forces me to cry,

All maids, &c.

He joy'd me with his pretty chat,

So well discourse could he,
Talking of this thing and of that,

Which greatly liked me,
I was so greatly taken with his speech,

And with his comely making,
He used all the words could be
To enchant me with his speaking.

All maids, &c.

In Danby forest I was born,

My beauty did excell,
My parents dearly loved me

Till my belly began to swell:
I might have been a prince's peer,

When I came over the Knoes,
Till the shepherd's boy beguiled me,
Milking my daddy's ewes.

All maids, &c.

When once I felt my belly swell,

No longer might I abide,
My mother put me out of doors,

And bang’d me back and side:

Then did I range the world so wide,

Wandering about the Knoes, Cursing the boy that helped me To fold my daddy's ewes.

All maids, &c.

Who would have thought a boy so young,

Would have us'd a maiden so,
As to allure her with his tongue,

And then from her to go.
Which hath, alas, procured my woe,

To credit his fair shews,
Which now too late repent I do
The milking of the ewes.

All maids, &c.

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I often since have wisht that I
· Had never seen his face,
needed not thus mournfully

Have sigh’d, and said alas;
I might have matched with the best,

As all the country knows,
Had I escap'd the shepherd boy
Helpt me to fold my ewes.

All maids, &c.

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