The Subtle Damosels Advice.
This Damsel she had try'd all sorts,
But could not find one true,
And other Maidens she exhorts,
To be careful what they do.
Tune of, Jenny Gin, Or, The fair one let me in, Or, Young Pheon, Or, Busie Fame.
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GIve ear a while unto my Song,
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you Damsels bright and fair;
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I think it doth to me belong,
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to bid you have a care.
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For I by sad experience find,
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what I do tell to you,
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That Young-men often prove unkind,
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though we prove ne'r so true.
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There Tom and Will two Shepherd Swains,
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whom once I did admire,
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Two finer Youths ne'r walk'd the Plains,
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they set my heart on fire.
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Then mind the words which I shall say,
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and here relate to you;
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For Young-men they the Knaves will play,
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though you prove ne'r so true.
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False Robert and the perjur'd Sam,
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their Oaths have quite forgot:
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O how they us'd to swear and damn,
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they ne'r design'd a Plot.
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But yet these Villains both agreed
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mine honour to undo;
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They would have wronged me indeed,
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that was so chaste and true.
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But Humphrey was a fine young Lad,
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and made a tearing show,
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Brave Cloaths upon his back he had,
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though for them he did owe.
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He with a Tally-man did deal
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in little time I knew;
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He thought my heart away to steal,
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though I was ever true.
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THen Henry with his lac'd Cravat,
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his Hatband all of Gold,
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A cunning trade he'd needs be at,
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but I thought him too bold;
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Five hundred pound a year he had,
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bequeath'd him as his due;
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But alas the Fool was not so mad,
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as to think that this was true.
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But Tony came to me most brave
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and gallant as the rest,
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But prov'd himself a very Knave,
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though love he did protest:
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He would be grabling where indeed
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Young-men had nought to do,
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I think by nature 'twas decreed,
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Young-men should prove untrue.
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Sweet William he came smiling in,
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whose eyes did wound me sore,
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But when he did his tricks begin,
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I vow'd to love no more.
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So at the last he left me quite,
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which caus'd my heart to rue,
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For in his sight was my delight,
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although he prov'd untrue.
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Poor Peter he came in at last,
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and vow'd he lov'd me dear,
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He thought my chastity to taste,
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but he was ne'r the near.
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I sent him into Whetstones Park,
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as I may tell to you,
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Where he might find a buxome spark,
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and like himself untrue.
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But George came in, in woful case,
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so drunk he could not stand,
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He boldly star'd me in the face,
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with something in his hand.
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You drunken Puppy, out I cry'd,
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you know not what you do;
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And all these young-men I have try'd;
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not one that I found true.
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Then Maidens all be rul'd by me,
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and look before you leap,
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Least young-men do most cunningly
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into your favour creep.
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If they can but obtain their wills,
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I know what they will do,
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It is not words that Bushels fills,
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for Young-men are untrue.
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