JOHN and BETTY:
OR,
The Vertue of Cherry-Stones.
Some Lad and Lasses dwelt in Kent,
To gather Cherrys lately went:
And underneath the Cherry-Tree,
They were as kind as kind could be.
To the Tune of, I am a Maid and a very good Maid.
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NOw the weather grows warm,
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let's laugh and be merry,
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My Betty we'l go
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and we'l taste of the Cherry:
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Then be not affrighted,
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for thus I will do,
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Thou shalt have the Cherrys
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and Cherry-stones too.
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Oh use me not roughly,
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but prithee be kind,
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I thought to these tricks
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thou had'st not been inclin'd;
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And since thou to me
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dost thy mind now declare,
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We'l walk to the place,
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where the Cherry-trees are,
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No sooner they came
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to sit under the Boughs,
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But Betty she tar'd him
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with breaking of Vows
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Which he formerly made,
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and as quickly forgot;
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But one Vow he had made,
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that brake he would not.
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And this was the Vow,
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he resolved to keep,
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That he would have a Maiden-head,
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e're he did sleep,
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Which when he inform'd her,
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she quickly was won,
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And under the Cherry-tree,
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there it was done.
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SOme Lads and some Lasses,
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there then was so near,
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And these loving Creatures
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they did over-hear;
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And came to behold,
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that which when they did see,
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They were all set a gagg,
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at the trade for to be.
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Then under the trees,
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each Lad took his Lass,
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And laid her down softly,
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upon the green Grass,
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Such work there was done,
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the like was never known,
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While Robert kiss'd Marget,
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then Thomas kiss'd Joan.
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And what follow'd these joys,
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you may easily guess,
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Their Bellies did swell,
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as they all did confess:
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Which brought their disgrace,
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for it quickly was known,
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Each Lass had a Child,
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but husband had none.
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Such sighing and groaning
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amongst them was then,
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They said they would never
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pick Cherrys agen:
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Though the Cherrys they likt
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yet the stones more did please,
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And caused their Bellies
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to swell by degrees
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But when these young-men,
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did this thing understand,
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They all fed together,
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quick out of the Land:
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And left these poor Damosels,
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at home to lament,
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Who of their past follies
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did sorely repent.
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You Maidens of Kent,
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take warning by us:
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And be not too forward
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to hugg and to buss,
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Which are the fore-runners
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of mischief indeed,
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And for such like Follies,
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our hearts now do bleed.
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And were we again,
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as we was hertofore,
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Or could sighs and tears,
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our Honour restore:
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We'd weep to the Deluge,
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and sigh to a Storm,
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But now we poor Souls,
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must be laughed to scorn.
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For one minutes pleasure
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must we pay so dear?
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And what's done in secret,
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so plainly appear:
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We thought that at once
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we might venture at all,
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Or should have been so loath
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on our backs for to fall.
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FINIS.
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