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EBBA 34985

Houghton Library - EBB65
Ballad XSLT Template
THE
lovesick Maid of Waping
Her Complaint for want of Apple-Pye.
This Maid was in such deep distress,
wanting a gamesome Lad,
She cry'd for want of Happiness
that other Lovers had.
Tune of, Jenny Gin, Fair one let me in, Busie fame, Hey boys up go we.

YOu that enjoy your hearts delight,
take pitty now on me,
Whom fortune seeketh to despite,
and bring to misery:
But yet I will a Husband have,
no fate shall me deny,
For I sigh myself into my Grave
and for want of Apple-py.

Now I am seventeen years of age,
methinks it is high time
Love's fiery passion to asswage,
now I am in my prime,
I must, I must a Husband have,
no fate shall me deny;
For I sigh myself into my Grave
and for want of Apple-py.

Oh that I play'd so much the fool
as in times past I did;
I might have gone to Venus School,
but fortune did forbid:
And now I must a Hu[s]band have,
no fate shall me deny,
Fo[r] I sigh myself into my Grave,
and for want of Apple-py.

When George the Goldsmith came to me
my beauty he admir'd;
And like a fool I did deny
what of me he desir'd:
But now a Husband I will a Husband have
no fate shall me deny,
For I sigh myself into my Grave,
and for want of Apple-py.

When Valentine the Vintener came
that handsome bonny Lad,
And to deny his fiery flame
I think I was quite mad:
But now I must a Husband have,
no fate shall me deny,
For I sigh myself into my Grave,
and for want of Apple py.

Could I but now a Husband have,
how happy should I be,
O then should I be brisk and brave,
and live in jollitry:
But the pangs of love doth me oppress,
tho' fate doth me deny;
And it is the only happiness
to taste of Apple-py.

Then John the Joyner came to me,
whose charms were half divine;
He told me he could gamesome be,
and understood to joyn:
But alas I must a husband have
that will both hug and kiss,
Else I shall pine into my Grave
for want of hit and miss.

At last a Taylor neat and fine,
with Bodkin and nis Needle,
He came to gain the love of mine,
but him I thought too feeble:
For I must have a thundering lad
my passion to allay,
Or else I surely shall go mad;
brisk Youngsters come away.

A brisk young Cobler to me came,
who worked in a Stall;
He said he burnt with fiery flame,
but I did not like his Aul:
No, no, 'tis not a cobling fool
must be a match for me,
For I ful well must like his Toole
that must my Husband be.

And after they were come and gone,
to me then came a Glover,
He looked like a feeble one,
not fit to be a Lover:
At my denyal he look'd pale,
and a passion he was in;
I bid him hold his babling tale,
for he should not prick my skin.

But then the Blacksmith to me came,
whose sight I did despise;
He lov'd, but I abhor'd the same,
tho' he for pitty crys:
Oh let me not these pains indure,
but grant to me some ease,
Except I can some help procure,
I die of Loves disease.

At last the Sailor gent and neat
to me a wooing came;
And he I thought was most compleat
to ease my fiery flame:
He gave to me such sweet discourse
I could him not deny,
My stubborn heart then felt remorse,
and he gave me Apple-py.


Printed for J. Conyers in Duck-Lane.

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