The Birds Lamentation.
When Birds could speak, and Women they
Had neither good nor bad to say,
The pretty Birds then fill'd with pain
Did to each other thus complain.
To the Tune of, The Bird-catchers delight.
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OH says the Cuckoo loud and stout,
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I flye the Country round about:
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While other Birds my young ones feed,
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And I my self do stand in need.
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Then says the Sparrow on her Nest,
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I lov'd a Lass but it was in jest:
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And ever since that self same thing,
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I made a vow I ne'r would sing.
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Then said the Black-Bird as she fled,
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I loved one but she is dead;
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And ever since my love I do lack,
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This is the cause I mourn in Black.
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Oh! says the Water-wag-tail then,
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I ne'r shall be my self agen:
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I loved one, but could not prevail,
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And this is the cause that I wag my tail.
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Then did begin the chattering Swallow,
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My love she is fled, but I would not follow;
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And now upon the Chimney high,
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I sing forth my poor Melody.
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Oh says the Rook, and eke the Crow,
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The reason why in Black we go;
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It is because we are forsook,
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Come pitty us poor Crow and Rook.
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Oh! says the Owle, that flies by night,
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I have quite lost my hearts delight,
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But since my Love is gone away,
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I never fly out in the day.
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Oh! says the squealing little Thresh,
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my sorrows now begin a fresh;
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For my Lover grows exceeding proud,
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and that is the cause that I squeale so loud.
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Oh! says the Robin-red-Breast, when
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you do me see, conclude it then
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The cold hard Winter's drawing nigh,
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which makes me towards the houses fly.
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Oh! says the pretty Skie-Lark, I
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up to the Element do fly;
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I lost my love, that caus'd my pain,
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and strive to sing it away in vain,
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Oh! says the little Titty-mouse,
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In secret holes I keep my house,
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Where mournfully I do complain,
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and curse my Lovers rash disdain.
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Oh! says the Bull-finch mind my moan,
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like my great loss you ne'r had none;
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Then to my Lamentation hark,
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as I sit singing in the dark.
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Oh! says the Magpye, what's the matter
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that you admire me when I chatter?
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I lost my Love and dearest Mate;
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I think 'tis then high-time to prate.
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Oh! says the Jack-daw I'me perplext,
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I lost my Love, and am strangely vext;
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And now I am forc'd to lodge in straw,
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most people still call me Jack-daw.
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Oh! says the Goldfinch mind me well,
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while my sad story I do tell,
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It often puts me in a rage,
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to see me penn'd up in a Cage.
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Oh! says the pretty little Linet,
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I loved well, but the duce was in it;
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For I'me forsook for good and all,
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though oft in vain on him I call.
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Oh! says the pretty Nightingale,
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come listen a while unto my tale;
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While other Birds do sleep I mourn,
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leaning my brest against a thorn,
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When they had mourn'd thus every one
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telling the cause they made such moan;
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All of a suddain away they flew,
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and ne'r so much as said adieu.
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But I suppose to their Nests they went,
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to sleep all night was their intent,
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But when the morning came again,
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then they began for to complain.
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FINIS.
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