Maids Lamentation,
That lives in great distress
Her Sweet-heart hath forsaken her,
Now she lives in weariness,
She's almost spoil'd for Cure,
And makes such mighty moan
That she no longer can endure
Herself to lie alone,
But wisheth for a Man
To ease her of her Woe:
Her Maidenhead does trouble her,
That She's not able for to go.
The Tune is, The Lass that comes to Bedto
me, Or, Sawney is gone.
|
MY Love is gone alack a day.
|
and he hath left me all a alone,
|
I am ready to make myself away
|
if I be not married I am undone:
|
I have a pain does trouble me
|
never poor Maid was troubled so.
|
It lyes a little above my Knee,
|
im'e so tormented I cannot go.
|
He said that he would marry me,
|
and gave me his hand upon the same
|
That I might have my pleasure free
|
and play in Bed with my good Man,
|
But if he will come and lets agree
|
now he has brought me to his Bow,
|
The Pain lyes sore above my Knee,
|
i'me so tormented I cannot go.
|
Green sickness is a weary thing
|
for any Maiden to indure.
|
Between my Knees it does so Ring
|
but the help of a Man is present Cure:
|
If a Maid can have it but in time
|
it will ease her of all Grief and Woe,
|
A maggot lyes so near my Loyn,
|
i'me so tormented,
|
But i'l write to him in a loving way,
|
that I may know either of or on,
|
If my Letter he will not obey
|
I must seek out for another Man,
|
All night I lye and knaw the Sheets.
|
and toss and tumble too and fro,
|
And for very anger lye and fret,
|
i'me so tormented.
|
|
|
|
|
The second Part to the same Tune.
|
FOr I am pained very sore
|
it brings upon me very Strife,
|
Yet I am loth to be a Whore
|
before that I am made a Wife:
|
Yet I could wish some sport to be
|
if my sweet-heart will have it so,
|
That I might have ease above my knee,
|
I scarce am able for to go.
|
There's no greater can be known
|
to any Maiden in that kind,
|
When she comes to age to ly alone
|
if no pleasure she can find:
|
For want of Pleasure makes me mad,
|
my sweet-hearts gone which is my Wo,
|
I will seek out for another Lad,
|
For want of help I cannot go.
|
All Maidens now I pray you mind,
|
you cannot chuse but pitth me,
|
I am so tormented in this kind
|
to linger out my dayes in misery,
|
I must have help or I am undone
|
the story plain, does make it so:
|
I'me at full age ee'n near eighteen,
|
For grief am spoil'd I cannot go,
|
Now all young Maidens that does hear
|
the sad complaint that I do make
|
The Man I love hath little care
|
and now I suffer for his sake:
|
But yet another Man Ile have
|
that he may cure me of my Woo,
|
That hath an instrument so brave
|
The help of him will make me go.
|
And so I bid you all adieu
|
I have no more for to say
|
I wish all young Men to be true
|
unto oung Maidens night and day:
|
And let not Maidens come to harm
|
if they do, young men to blame will be,
|
But couple and keep one another warm,
|
To prevent all dangers above the Knee.
|
|
|
|
|