A New Scotch Ballad
OF
Jealous Nanny: Or,
False-hearted WILLY turn'd True.
To the Tune of, Moggies Jealousie.
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MY own dear Nanny, my fair eyne,
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my pritty sweet Creature, my Love,
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Why, what is the matter, my dear eyne,
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that Nanny will from me remove?
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And Willy I'se sure ye do gush it,
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for awe ye do look sa demure,
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And tho' ye will never confess it,
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yet Willys a fause eyne ise sure.
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Ah! Nanny, quo he, be not cruel,
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but banish that Jealousie quite,
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For Nanny was always my Jewel,
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my joy and my anely delight:
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Na mere, quo she, prithee dear Willy,
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your flattery never will Cure,
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Tho' Nanny has bin but too silly,
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yet now ye're a fause eyne ise sure:
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So farewel to Willy the Ranger,
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for ise never trouble ye mere,
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Gin Moggies unkind you may change her,
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for every new face is your dear:
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Ne mere shall your sighing and crying,
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bring Nanny to stoop to your lure,
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Nor pitty ye, tha' ye're a dying,
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for Willys a fause eyne ise sure.
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AH! Nanny, pray tell the occasion,
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why you will your Willy desert,
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And if I can make no Evasion,
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forever forever we'se part:
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For Willy was never a Ranger,
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nor nene can love Nanny mere truer,
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But Gin she will part for a Stranger,
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then Nannys a fause eyne ise sure.
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Nay, Willy may talk for his Pleasure,
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but ise may believe what I please,
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For Moggy Ise sure is his Treasure,
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and Nanny his onely disease:
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How oft have I heard you to praise her,
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and say that there none was like to her,
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And sware he was happy could please her,
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nay Willys a fause eyne ise sure.
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And have I not heard you with Sawney,
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discourse, embrace, and to smack,
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And seen him to thrust in his Tawney
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rough hand down your Lilly-white back:
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Ye know that I saw this, my dear,
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yet I never thought ye untruer,
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This never occasion'd my fear,
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for Nanny was just I was sure.
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Ah! prithee dear Willy forgive me,
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and ise ne'r be Jealous again,
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'Twas onely my Love, you'l believe me,
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and ise had the worst of the pain:
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And Willy shall still be my dearest,
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with Willy Ise always endure,
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And Nanny shall still be his fairest,
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for Willys nay fause eyne ise sure.
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But the Parson shall make us amends too,
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and we'l have a merry long day,
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With all our Relations and Friends too,
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and the Piper all Night he shall play:
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And thou shalt put on thy best Jerkin,
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and I will put on my best quoife,
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For my Mother will Brew a whole Firkin,
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against that thou make me thy Wife.
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