THE
Innocent Maid Deceiv'd
by a Dissembling Batchelor:
OR,
The Mother's Advice to her Wanton Daughter.
To a Pleasant New Tune.
Licensed according to Order.
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YOung Men and Maids come listen a while
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in Country and in Town,
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Come listen a while, and you shall hear
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the fall of my Renown:
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Once I was a Virgin most fair,
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as it full well is known,
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I went so Gay, you all may say,
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so long as I kept my own.
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At Weddings and at Banquetings,
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I was the chiefest Guest,
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Young Men to give the to give me Gloves and Rings,
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did take it as a Grace:
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To Dance before Young Men and Maids,
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my Anguish it was shown,
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Till a Man by chance, took me to Dance,
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and cozen'd me of my own.
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But mark what follows after this,
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for still 'tis worse and worse;
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For e're nine Months are gone and past,
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I now must be a Nurse:
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I could no longer hide my shame,
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my Belly so big is grown,
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And my Apron so short, true's the report,
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good lack! how I lost my own.
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My Mother came down so full of spight,
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get you out you Rake, be gone,
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Dost thou think we will harbour thee,
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so long as you lost your own:
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I vow'd I swear, I loved him dear,
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the like was never known,
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Thus in the Barn, and upon the Corn,
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when first that I lost my own.
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Daughter.
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Good Mother, be not in a Rage,
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I vow I ne'r once thought
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That he would prove so sly a Spark,
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but Wit's ne'r good till bought:
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Quoth he to me, come let us Dance
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the best Jigg e're was known;
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And I, like a Fool, did follow his Rule,
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and thus 'twas I lost my own.
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Mother.
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Ah! truly, you have Danc'd it fair,
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go fetch that Slave, that Viper,
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I'll warrant you he's tript away,
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and you must pay the Piper:
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Find the Spark, or I'll make such a Row
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shall make you tremble and quake.
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I'll see you Dance, Caper and Prance,
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after another-guess rate.
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Daughter.
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Be but appeas'd, I've thought on a way,
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then vex your self no more,
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The Child in a Basket I will lay,
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at some Rich Batchelors door.
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No Daughter, said she, this will not do,
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when you lye in, Forsooth,
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Where's the Father? then you'll rather
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dye than tell the truth.
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Just now there's something comes in my head
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which will do best of all,
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Don't you remember your Sweet-heart Ned,
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you may have him at a Call:
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Wheedle him on, before too far gone,
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come then, I'll help to dispatch;
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With joint consent, away they both went,
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and soon did make up the Match.
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Now the Feud at an end,
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the Child a Dad has got,
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And e're two Months are gone and past,
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I fear he'll smell the Plot:
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But if he does, I can but think,
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what a Hellish Rout he'll make,
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For all his Damning, Cursing and Raming,
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will ne'r make amends, 'tis too late.
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FINIS.
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