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EBBA 32846

National Library of Scotland - Crawford
Ballad XSLT Template
THE
London Jilts lamentation
OR,
A Hue-and-Cry after a fine Lac'd SMOCK
She now in Thread-bare Garment goes,
and does to Ruin run;
For since she lost her Smock and Cloath[s]
she's utterly Undone.
To the Tune of, Cold and Raw.
This may be Printed, R.P.

HEre is wonderful strange News,
I happen'd to discover,
'Tis of one who dayly us'd
to play the wanton Lover:
She's neither Widdow, Wife, nor Maid,
but yet a most comely Creature,
And in her Garb most richly Array'd,
few Ladies are more Compleater.

With Rich Jewels, Chains and Rings,
and also Silks and Laces,
And with other costly things,
all got by lewd Embraces:

As to the Strand she did advance,
a Cully did overtake her,
By whom she lit of a sad Mischance,
the which was enough to break her.

First he took her by the hand,
this seemed to provoke her,
But he'd not disputing stand,
but did both kiss and stroak her:
Saying, with thee this night i'le lye,
sure it can be no great Evil:
But her reply was, Pish, nay fie,
I pray you kind Sir be Civil.

Straight he show'd her Gold good store,
and vow'd he would not harm her,
She could not deny no more,
the Guinnies did so charm her:
Thus presently they both agreed,
without any longer dodging,
And walkt near Charing-Cross with speed,
to hire a private Lodging.

There they past for Man and Wife,
the People did believe them,
This did please her to the life,
to think how they deceiv'd them:
They to the Chamber then repair,
to quench Loves flaming fire,
Said he, my sweet and Charming fair,
one thing I must needs desire.

Said he, one Oath I made alone,
and loath I am to break it,
That was, ne'r to lye with one,
but what shall be stark Naked:
Said she, Love, your demand's but small,
it being warm Summer weather,
So straight she stript off Smock and all,
and thus did Pig both together.

Soon after the Day did break,
then in the Morning early,
This young Jilt he did forsake,
and left her sleeping fairly;
And straight he packt up all her Cl[othes]
so much as her fine Lac'd Smick[?]
And down the Stairs in haste he g[oes]
O was he not Monstrous Wicked

When she wak'd and found him gon[e]
she straightways rapt and thund[ered]
And did bitterly take on,
to see how she was plunder'd
Of Smock and all her rich Array,
she cou'd not tell how to take it,
For he had carry'd all away,
and left her in Bed stark Naked.

An old Gown they had in store,
to hide her shame, they gave her
Then they turn'd her out of door,
and finely did beslave her;
So that she daily does repine,
and is with sad sorrow laden,
For since she has lost her Feathers
poor heart! she has pittiful Tre[asures]


Printed for J. Deacon, at the Angel in Guiltspur-Street, without Newg[ate.]

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