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EBBA 20022

Magdalene College - Pepys
Ballad XSLT Template
The Northerne Turtle:
Wayling his unhappy fate,
In being deprived of his sweet Mate.
To a new Northern tune, or A health to betty.

AS I was walking all alone,
I heard a man lamenting,
Under a hollow bush he lay,
but sore he did repent him:
Alas, quoth he, my love is gone,
which causeth me to wander,
Yet merry will I never be,
till I lye lulling beyond her.

Good Lord so soundly could I sleep
if that I lay lulling beyond her,
All the night, till day were light,
and the Sun did shine upon her:
Yet early by day I would steale away,
to keepe my love from slander,
Yet I will never merry be,
till I lye lulling beyond her.

My love and I will gallantly
so many yeares together,
Her love was so inclined to mee,
that now I'me loth to leave her:
But now this wicked world is such,
that causeth me to wander;
Yet will I never woman touch,
till I lye lulling beyond her.

Like to the Turtle I will mourne,
in absence of my marrow,
With bitter teares I cry and mourne,
my joy is all but sorrow;
My comfort is to me much care,
whilst floods and woods I wander:
Nay, merry will I never be:
till I lye lulling beyond her.

O Gods that make the foules to fly,
to love their mates so dearely,
Yet for her sake they doe refuse,
to sing or chirp once cheerely.
What comfort can the world afford,,
what joyes then can I render?
Nay merry will I never be,
till I lye lulling beyond her.

A pretty Dame was once my Love,
till death made separation,
And she to me did constant prove,
with out dissimulation:
Yet for her sake still will I weepe,
while I on earth doe wander:
Nay soundly will I never sleepe,
till I lye lulling beyond her.

Though cruell death had cut the breath,
of this my comely creature,
To meet againe we have true faith,
our change is but a feature:
Death may indeed in bondage keepe,
yet not our love can hinder,
Then soundly, soundly shall I sleep,
when as I lye lulling beyond her.

My dearest Deare I come to thee,
when't pleaseth death to send me,
The grave I count my dearest home,
oh quickly then befriend me:
She prov'd a Hero true to me,
and I will be a Leander,
I never shall in quiet be,
till I lye lulling beyond her.


London, Printed for J.H. FINIS.

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