The Unfortunate Lover;
OR,
Merry ANDREW 's sad and wofull Lamentati-
on for the Loss of his Sweetheart JOAN .
To the Tune of, I marry and thank ye too. Licensed according to Order.
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A Las I am come to Town,
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as here make pitifull moan,
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For having rambled up and down
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can't find out my true Love Joan.
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I came to Bartholomew Fair,
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and search'd that Place alone,
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Expecting to have found her there,
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my delicate Sweetheart Joan.
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I am in a pitifull Case,
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and shall be overthrown,
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I have made many a sowre Face,
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for want of my true Love Joan.
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In Bed I can take no rest,
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but tumble and toss alone,
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A thousand Torments in my Breast
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for want of my Sweetheart Joan.
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To Love I am so enclin'd,
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and daily do make sad moan,
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And quite distracted in my mind,
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for want of my true Love Joan.
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She's as sweet as a sucking Pig,
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for her I do make my moan;
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I long to Dance the Wedding-Jig
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along with my Sweetheart Joan.
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I wander the silent Grove,
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and make most piteous moan,
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I am over head and ears in Love,
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and all for my Sweetheart Joan.
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For she was a sweet a bit,
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as ever by me was known,
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Her precious Smiles I can't forget,
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Oh, where is my Sweetheart Joan.
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Her Lips they were Cherry red,
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she had but one fault alone,
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A little Child e'er she was Wed,
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my delicate Sweetheart Joan.
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I like her never the worse,
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the Child's a Champion grown,
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By being well brought up at Nurse,
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But where is my Sweetheart Joan.
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To speak of her Beauty bright,
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there hardly is such a One,
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Her pleasant Charms do's dim my sigh
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my delicate Sweetheart Joan.
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At once she looks North and South ,
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her Beauty I needs must own,
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She has a pretty Sparrows Mouth,
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my delicate Sweetheart Joan.
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Her pretty sweet Beetle-brow,
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but Teeth she has not one;
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She is as slender as a Cow,
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my delicate Sweetheart Joan.
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Her Hair's as black as a Cole,
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for her I do make sad moan,
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I fear some Lord or Earl has stole
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my delicate Sweetheart Joan.
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