The SORROWFUL MAIDEN
For the want of
TOCHER-GOOD.
To an Excellent Old Tune.
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THus lurking as alone I lay,
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where there was no Repair,
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A Maid before me on the way,
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I heard a Greeting fair:
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Her Moan was loud it mov'd the Air,
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to hear her still I stood,
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She was lamenting evermair,
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for fault of Tocher good.
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Her roaring Cryes outragious,
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with driery Words amain;
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Her stormy Speech and rigorous,
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as she herself had slain:
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The Tears that from her Eyes sore ran
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her Pain it multiply'd;
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For wanting of a Love so long
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for fault of Tocher-good.
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Who'll pity me, suppose, I pance,
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she says, unto this Pine?
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I'm reft indeed of Wit and Sense,
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that I rage in my Mind.
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Because that I do ly alone,
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and Company's so good;
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I am in point, alas! to tine,
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for want of Tocher-good.
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Alas! I know not what to do,
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I stand in such Despair;
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Or where away that I should go,
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my Maiden-head to ware,
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No marvel though my Heart be fair,
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to play I dare not do't;
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Unmarry'd I stand in such Fear
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for want of Tocher-good.
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An old Maiden if that I be,
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no Man will of me make;
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Then great dolor will gar me die,
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fra time they me forsake;
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Alas! my Sorrow cannot slaik,
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which gars my Pleasure fade,
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Alas! that I should want my Maik,
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for want of Tocher-good.
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My Father was a Gentle-man,
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of many Lands was Laird;
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He was so rash in his Spending,
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and all his Living clear'd.
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At Cards and Dice he hath it war'd,
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while it did never good;
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Which gars me sit at home unserv'd
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for want of Tocher-good.
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These lordlie Lairds they by me pass
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and scantly do me ken:
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They swear I am a lusty Lass,
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but Gear, quoth they, she's nane:
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Quoth they, it gars her sit at Hame,
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for all her gallant Weed;
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Who would have her, quoth they again;
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if she want Tocher-good?
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I busk, I keam, I prien, I straik,
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but this is all in vain;
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I make my self right Market like,
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but nothing doth avail:
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And this is ev'n the matter hail.
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their Gear gars them be lov'd;
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My Heart it bowdens into Bail
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for want of Tocher-good.
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Though she were ne'er so gray a May
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into the same Countrie,
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Yet Young men will her kiss and clap,
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if she hath gear to gie:
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A Carl's Daughter if that she be,
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some with her will conclude,
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And marry her right honestly,
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if she have Tocher-good.
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This gars my Heart be like to burst,
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and break in Pieces three,
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When Young men do their Cheeks oft clap,
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and will not look on me.
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This is the very Cause truly,
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their Gear gars them be lov'd,
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I would he had been hanged hy,
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first ordain'd Tocher-good.
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But oh, alas! if that I wist,
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my Mind nothing should had:
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Then should I run into all Haste,
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and choose some wanton Lad:
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And yet, alas! I am so red,
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by no means I dare do't:
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No marvel though my Heart be sad
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For want of Tocher-good.
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There's no Remeed but Patience,
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or else ly down and die:
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Take Pity on us woful things,
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that have no Gear to gie:
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Alas! we seek of their Mercie,
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to grant us some Remeed:
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And take us from that doleful Day,
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since we want Tocher-good.
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