The Scotch Lover's Lamentation:
OR,
GILDEROY's Last FAREWEL.
To an excellent new Tune, much in request.
Licensed according to Order.
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GIlderoy was a bonny Boy,
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had roses tull his shun,
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His stockins made of the finest silk,
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his garters hanging duwn:
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It was a comely sight to see,
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he were so trim a Boy;
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He was my Joy and Heart's Delight,
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my handsom Gilderoy.
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Oh, sick a charming eyen he had,
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a breath as sweet as rose,
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He never wore a Highland-plad,
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but costly silken cloaths:
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He gain'd the love of Ladies gay,
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there's none to him was coy;
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Ah, way's me, Ise mourn this day
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for my dear Gilderoy.
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My Gilderoy and I was born
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both in one Town together,
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Not passing seven years ago,
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since one did love each other:
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Our Daddies and our Mammies both,
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were cloath'd with mickle joy,
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To think upon the bridal-day,
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betwixt I and my Gilderoy.
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For Gilderoy, that Love of mine,
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geud faith Ise freely bought
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A wedding-sark of Holland fine,
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with silk in flowers wrought;
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And he gave me a wedding-ring,
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which I receiv'd with joy;
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No Lads or Lasses e'er could sing,
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like my sweet Gilderoy.
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In mickle joy we spent our time,
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till we was both fifteen,
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Then gently he did lay me down,
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amongst the leaves so green;
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When he had done what he could do,
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he rose and gang'd his woy,
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But ever since I lov'd the Man,
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my handsom Gilderoy.
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While we did both together play,
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he kiss'd me o're and o're;
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Geud faith it was as blith a day,
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as e'er I saw before;
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He fill'd my heart in e'ry vein,
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with love and mickle joy;
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But when shall I behold again,
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mine own sweet Gilderoy?
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'Tis pity Men should e'er be hang'd,
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that takes up Womens geer,
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Or for their pelfering sheep or calves,
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or stealing cow or mare;
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Had not our laws been made so strict,
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I'd never lost my Joy,
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Who was my Love and Heart's Delight,
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my handsom Gilderoy.
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'Cause Gilderoy had done amiss,
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must he be punish'd then?
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What kind of cruelty is this,
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to hang such handsom Men?
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The Flower of the Scotish Land,
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a sweet and lively Boy,
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He likewise had a Lady's hand,
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my handsom Gilderoy.
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At Leith they took my Gilderoy,
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and there, God wot, they bang'd him,
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Carry'd him to fair Edenburgh,
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and there, God wot, they hang'd him,
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They hang'd him up above the rest,
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he was so trim a Boy,
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My only Love and Heart's Delight,
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my handsom Gilderoy.
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Thus having yielded up his breath,
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in cyprus he was laid;
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Then for my Dearest, after death,
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a funeral I made;
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Over his grave a marble-stone
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I fixed for my Joy;
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Now I am left to weep alone,
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for my dear Gilderoy.
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