The MAIDEN'S
Melancholly Moan
For the Loss of her
VIRGINITY:
Having been playing the wanton Wagtail with Nineteen or
Twenty Batchelors, who could not certainly say which was
the Father of her Child, to her great Grief and Sorrow.
To the Tune of Liggan Water. Licensed according to Order.
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I Was a fair young Maid of late,
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But now unhappy is my Fate,
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For having lost my Maiden-head,
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My Sweet-hearts they are from me fled.
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My Fortune now I fear is spoil'd,
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I being Six Months gone with Child,
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Which fills my Heart with grief and woe,
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For I do not the Father know.
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There many daily courted me
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Who was both loving kind and free,
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In giving Cakes and Kisses too,
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This did my pleasant Joys renew.
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Kind Robin me on his Knee,
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And did so kiss and cuddle me,
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That soon he did my Heart betray,
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No Lass alive could say him nay.
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Then after him near Twenty more,
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Who told me that they did adore
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My pretty little charming Eyes,
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Untill they did obtain the Prize.
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But since I did begin to swell,
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I'faith they bid me all farewell,
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Not one of them the Child will own,
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But leaves me sighing all alone.
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Their Trades and Callings I'll unfold,
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The first a Blacksmith brisk and bold,
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Who brought his Hammer in his hand,
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I fell for want of Strength to stand.
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Then being down, he thump'd me so,
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That getting up, I scarce could go;
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Yet this I took, and never cry'd,
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But now the pain lies in my side.
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A jolly Joyner tall and trim,
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He was the next man after him;
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His Tools he brought one, two and three,
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And all to do a Job for me.
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Then smerking John the Baker's man,
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He promis'd me a Muff and Fan,
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If that I would but once be kind,
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Then strait I was to Love inclin'd,
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A nimble Taylor fine and brave,
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With Cap in hand did often crave
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A fine soft tender Kiss or two,
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What I gave more, I now may rue.
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Then with his Yard he measur'd me,
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To make my Gown and Mantua free;
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But oh! the Knave has vext me sore,
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He has made them both too short before.
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Then after him a Bricklayer came,
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Geud faith I have forgot his Name,
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Such jolly Men there is but few,
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He did both Kiss and squeeze me too.
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I kindly set the Knave to work,
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But to me he prov'd a Shirk;
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I had no cause to like his Tricks,
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He laid me Stones instead of Bricks.
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By many more I have been wrong'd,
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Of what of late to me belong'd;
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But it is gone and past I see,
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And there is left no help for me.
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I to the Smith did go one day,
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And unto him did sighing say,
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Alas! I am with Child by thee,
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But Robin would not credit me.
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His Answer was immediately,
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I prithee don't disputing stand,
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I own the Child, if that it be
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born with the Hammer in his hand.
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Thus was I serv'd by all the rest,
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So that I solemnly protest,
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I am a Damsel here defil'd,
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That has no Father for my Child.
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