The Scotch Lass Deceiv'd
By her Bonny Lad JOCKEY.
To a New Scoth Tune of Mr. Farmers.
This may be Printed, R.P.
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WHhen cold Winter Storms were past,
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And every Mead with Flowers was grac'd,
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My Jockey then as fine as May,
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With Bonnet cock't up, and a feather so gay,
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Each day came to me,
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To Cog, Lye, and Sue me,
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To flatter and Wooe me,
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But I, alas! believ'd to soon,
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And at last found him to be a false Loon,
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To my sorrow.
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Early when the God of Day,
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Had just in the Eastern Skies made way,
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Then Jockey came to my Bed-side,
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Wolt gang tull a Kirk, says he, and be my bride?
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I answer'd Marry,
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Ise not ready for ye,
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Ise mean for to tarry,
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And first for our Wedding provide;
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Then Wed with Jockey, and lig by his side,
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To delight him.
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On my breast he lean'd his head,
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And thurst down his hand into the bed,
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Then I cry'd out, O fee, O fee,
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Thou art like a Loon as I never did see,
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My bonny Jockey,
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I never yet took ye,
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To be so Unlucky,
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To hurt the Lass you love so well;
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Who never beneath a bonny Lad fell
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In my life, Sir.
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He got in a gude merry Mude,
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He thought it was time then to be Rude;
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He kindly stroakt my Downy Wem,
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And farther proceeded, O then, O then,
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I cry'd, nay, look ye,
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Nay, prithee now Jockey,
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Be not so Unlucky,
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For after you will not abide.
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To take like a bonny Lass to your Bride,
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I am sure on't.
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When my Jockey the Deed had done,
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He rose from the Bed and wou'd have been gone,
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I caught him by th' Breeks, and askt him to wed
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'Tis Marriage enough, sayes he, for us to Bed;
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And so did he leave me,
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Which greatly did grieve me,
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He thus should deceive me;
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And then quit his Courtship so soon;
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But if I trust like another false Loon,
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Deel take me.
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Bonny Lasses all take care,
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No Lads e'er delude ye into sike a Snare:
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For if they once creep into your Bed,
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You never must after expect them to Wed;
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What words they scatter,
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They never make matter,
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only to flatter,
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For when the Loon his Will has had,
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You may look out for another sike Lad,
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For he'll leave you.
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