An excellent new Song lately
composed, entituled Ile ore
Bogie we him.
To its own proper New Tune,
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ALL Batchelers and Lasses
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I Pray you now draw near,
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And do you hold your Passion,
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A Story you shall hear,
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Of a young wanton Lassie,
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That would not Counciled be,
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But she would over Gady,
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Her Fortaine for to see.
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Ill ore Bogie we my Love,
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Ill ore Bogie we him,
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And all my Kine had Sworn and said
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Ill ore Bogie we him.
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My Loves a Valiant Highland Man
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and true to his King.
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A Pair of Pistols by his side,
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and a well hung Loom,
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He Courted me with Complements
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that did intice me so,
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That I would leave my Parents,
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and over Gaudy go,
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Ill ore Bogie. etc.
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He asked my Hair in Complement
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for to make me a Wig,
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And long or ern we parted
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he bored my Whirle-gige,
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He Fufled all my Petticoat.
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and felled about my Spare,
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He nere would be contented;
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untill that he felled mair,
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Ill ore Bogie. etc
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He laid me down upon my back,
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and all my Buttocks bair,
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And he pulld out an Instrument,
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that coued me to a Hair,
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He took the Sheers into his Hand,
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he cowed my Head full bare,
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But immediately thereafter,
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he Swore that I had mair,
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Ill ore Bogie, etc.
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He might have been a Minister,
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he was a Lairds Son,
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For nere a Hole that he could see
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but he would fain been in;
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Pray take from me my Rock Mother
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but and my Spining While,
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Ill ore Bogie we my Love,
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tho I should nere do well,
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Ill ore Bogie, etc.
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O my dearest Daughter,
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why will you say so,
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Will ye leave Father and Mother.
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and over Gaudie go,
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Go home, go home old Mother,
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go home and Sell your Ale,
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I wish that all your Barrals break
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and ye get little seal,
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Ill ore Bogie. etc.
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Altho the Night were nere so dark
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blowing both Wind and Rain,
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Ill ore Gaudy we my Love,
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and will not it Refrain,
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And out then came her Father dear,
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and angry was he then,
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Says Daughter for my Bennision
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foresake that Highland Man,
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Ill ore Bogie, etc.
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Go home, go home my Father dear
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go home and Sow your Corn,
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I wish that never more come up,
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but Thristle, Brier and Thorn,
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And now my dearest Lover,
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Come lets us mount and go,
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And we will ovet Gady,
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my dear it shall be so,
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Ill ore Bogie, etc-
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Soon on Monday Morning,
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by Dawning of the Day,
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While Phebus was adorning,
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They both have gone away,
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With hassing and with Kissing,
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she went into his Arms,
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With great Love to adore him,
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Yeilding all Mortal Charms,
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Ill ore Bogie, etc.
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And now this Prety Damasel,
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that nere would Counciled be,
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Shes over Gady with her Love,
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her Fortune for to see,
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But when some Weeks were gone & past
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this Lass wirh Child did prove,
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Her sweet Hearts gone and left her
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and choist another Love,
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Ill ore Bogie, etc.
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But now this Prety Damasel,
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knows none that will provide,
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For her and her young Baby,
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for them for to get Bread,
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Shes come home to her Father.
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and to her Mother now,
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And says her Disobedience,
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full sore she does rue.
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Ill ore Bogie, etc.
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Her Parents did refuse her,
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so she must go away,
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To beg with her young Bastard,
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for many a year and Day,
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Come all ye Prety Demasals,
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take warning here I Pray,
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Have not a light Beheavour,
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Your Parents do Obey,
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Ill ore Bogie, etc.
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Likewise a Lesson take by me,
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of Loving of young Men,
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Least you do prove with Child,
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they go and leave you then,
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Ill ore Bogie we my Love,
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Ill ore Bogie we him,
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And all my Kine had sworn and said
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Ill ore Bogie we him.
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