THE
Virgin's Complaint
For want of a HUSBAND.
To the Tune of, Robin Cushee.
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I'M a Lass both brisk and Fair,
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Sparkling Eye, and Coal-black Hair;
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Fine lac'd Shoes and Top knots rare,
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Yet no Man comes to wooe me.
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Come, come, come away;
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Marry me without delay;
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My Heart will break if long you stay,
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My Maiden-head will undoe me.
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I have Twenty Pound in Gold,
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That as good as e'er was told,
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And I'm but Fifteen Years old,
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Yet no Man comes to wooe me, come, etc.
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I am Plump, and I am Fat,
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I can talk, and I can chat,
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I have something, you know what,
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Yet no Man comes to wooe me, come, etc.
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I am neither Rich nor Poor,
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I was never Miss nor Whore,
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I had ne'er my Plackets tore,
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Yet no Man comes to wooe me, come, etc.
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Tho I be pretty, Brisk and Fair,
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Grave as are the clouds of Air,
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I am now at my last Pray'r,
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For no Man comes to wooe me, come, etc.
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Robin came upon the Sham,
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Told me many Lye and Flam,
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But away he went, and no more came,
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And no Man comes to wooe me, come, etc.
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Richard took me in the Nick,
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Told me that he was Love-sick,
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Yet did intend to do the Trick,
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But never came to wooe me, come, etc.
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I sometimes laugh, and sometimes Sing,
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Me in Favour for to bring,
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But a Taylor now or any thing,
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For no Man comes to wooe me, come, etc.
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Dolly, Molly, Susan, Bess,
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Pretty Maids in civil Dress,
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All Night do lye Succourless,
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For no Man comes to wooe them, come, etc.
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I protest, if you stay long,
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You will do us more than wrong,
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And thus I do conclude my Song,
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In hopes of one to wooe me, come, etc.
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Come, come, come away;
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Marry me without delay;
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My Heart will break if long you stay,
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My Maiden-head will undoe me.
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The Conquer'd VIRGIN.
To the Tune of, Maggy's Bed so near.
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MY Phillis she is Red and White,
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Of all the Admiration;
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The Object of my Hearts delight,
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And Phenix of the Nation.
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The Di'mond sparkleth in her Eye,
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Her Lips are like two Roses,
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Her cheeks are like a Scarlet Sky,
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Where Cupid him reposes.
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I peep'd in through her chamber-door,
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And saw her naked lying;
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Her Skin was Alablaster pure,
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My Fancy fell a crying.
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But when she stoop'd to reach the Pot,
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She made my chops to water,
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I saw her charming Beauty-spot,
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And wish'd I had been at her.
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I sigh'd to see her panting lye,
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And softly stept unto her,
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She blush'd at me with half an Eye,
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But I began to wooe her;
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I kiss'd her mouth and rosy cheek,
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And brought her to a Tryal,
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And then the Indies low did seek,
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And would have no denial.
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I shot the Gulf and past the Line,
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Which never Man durst venture;
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When my Degrees they were but Nine,
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A new found Land did enter.
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I storm'd her Fort for half an hour,
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The Port she did Surrender;
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Then I was more a Conqueror
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Than was Great Alezander.
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