Crums of Comfort
For the
YOUNGEST SISTER.
|
The youngest Sister in despair,
|
At last did comfort find,
|
Which banisht all her grief and care,
|
And eas'd her troubled mind,
|
A kind young man did promise her
|
That she should married be,
|
She answered him again, Kind Sir,
|
Thereto I'm wondrous free.
|
To a pleasant new West country Tune.
|
I Have a good old Father at home,
|
an ancient man is he,
|
But he has a mind, that e're he dies,
|
That I should marry'd be.
|
And since I heard of thy complaint,
|
methoughts I pitty'd thee,
|
To me thou seemest like a Saint,
|
And thou shalt marryed be.
|
The Roses and the Lillies fair
|
cannot compare to thee,
|
Then mine own Dear do not despair,
|
for thou shalt married be
|
I have been curious in mine eye,
|
yet ne'r could any see,
|
That so much pleas'd my fantasie,
|
And thou shalt married be.
|
All night between my loving Arms,
|
thou shalt have embraces free,
|
And ile secure thee from all harms
|
When thou shalt married be.
|
And wouldst thou have a pretty Babe
|
ile quickly get it thee,
|
Thy credit and my own to save,
|
When we two married be.
|
A Thousand joys ile promise more
|
and all the world shall see,
|
That none like thee I will adore,
|
And thou shalt married be.
|
What though thy Sister is bestow'd,
|
let not that trouble thee,
|
On her young men some years have blowd
|
Thou young shalt married be.
|
Thou hast no wrinckles in thy face
|
and so i'm sure has she,
|
'Twill be an honour, no disgrace,
|
That thou shouldst married be.
|
And tell me now canst thou deny
|
so kind a friend as me,
|
That saith thou shalt no Maiden die,
|
But thou shalt married be.
|
If I walk through the Universe
|
I can no fairer see,
|
But every where I will reherse
|
That we will married be.
|
Ile Crown thee with the joys of love,
|
some Mortals ne'r did see,
|
And some shall wish that live above,
|
Like us to married be.
|
Can Hymen any joys provide,
|
my Dear for thee or me,
|
Out of his thoughts they cannot slide,
|
But thou shalt married be.
|
No, no, torment thy self no more,
|
nor fear loves cruelty,
|
Thou art the girl that I adore,
|
And thou shalt married be.
|
Give me thy hand, take here my heart,
|
and be from sorrow free,
|
I know the worth of thy desert,
|
And thou shalt married be.
|
Twill be one day a blessed time
|
and we from cares be free,
|
When thou art married in thy prime
|
That I may happy be.
|
|
|
|
|
|