THE
Sommerset-shire Damsel beguil'd;
OR,
The Bonny Baker Chous'd in his Bargain.
The Baker Wedded her in hast,
And after that was done,
She brought him e're Five months space
A Daughter and a Son.
To the Tune of, The Two English Travellers, This may be Printed, R.P.
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A Beautiful Damsel from Sommerset-Shire,
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Came up to the Citty of London we hear;
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And she was delightful, both proper and Tall,
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An accident to her at length did befall.
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For many a Suitor then courted her still,
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Who daily endeavoured to gain her good will;
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The First was a Barber, a jocular Blade,
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Who was in attire most Richly array'd.
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The next was a Farrier whose fortune was great
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His friends they had left him a worthy estate;
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He treated her kindly, but all was in vain,
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She slighted his proffer with scorn and disdain.
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The next was a Baker who call'd her his dear,
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Resolved he was to come in for a share,
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In this kind of language she answer'd him to
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Be gon, and pack off with the rest of the crue.
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A ranting gallant did this Damsel surprize,
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His Robes was so rich that he dazled her eyes,
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Rich fringing and ruffles most gallant & gay,
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With eloquent language he did her betray.
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He gave her a Ring with a bracelet of Pearl,
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Then kist her, and call'd her his amorous Girl;
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Said he thou wilt tell, if this night I should lie
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With thee my sweet creature, she said no not I
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What pleasure & pastime this couple did take,
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I shall not discover for modesty's sake;
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This gallant soon after did surely refrain
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Her company clearly, with scorn and disdain.
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O then she was in a most pittiful case,
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For finding and fearing her future disgrace;
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now where are those tradesmen the damsel replyd
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I wish one would come now & make me his bride
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I'le go to the Barber he was my first Love,
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And see what he says, & if pitty will move
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His tender affections, he k[n]ows not m[y] crime,
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To him i'le be married, for now tis [hi]gh time.
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An Innocent story to him she did tell,
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He knew by her humour that all was not well;
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He said you was cruel and us'd me unkind,
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You might have took me when I was in the mind
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I'le go to the Farrier, he once courted me,
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He may be more loving and kinder then he,
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But when she came to him he made her a vow,
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That he would have nothing to do with her now.
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Away to the Baker she went with all speed,
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He must be the man that must now do the deed;
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To Father the Child be it daughter or Son,
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If he does not marry me I am undone.
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The Baker was joyful and ended the strife,
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He freely embrac'd her and made her his wife;
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The weding was kept with much joy & good cheer
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With musick & dancing to pleasure his dear.
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But twenty weeks after to finish their mirth,
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She brought him a daughter & son at a birth,
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His charge coming on he did heartily rue,
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He hung down his ears & lookt pittiful blue.
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For now he had every thing to provide,
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As Blankets and Cradles with gossips beside;
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With twenty things more which he must prepare,
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Was ever poor man so incumbred with care.
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Alas he lamented, and made piteous moan,
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As fearing the brats they were none of his own;
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The Gossips excusing her thus they did say
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Tis twenty by night man and twenty by day.
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The reason she came in so little a time,
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She's youthful and fruitful & just in her prime.
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If that be the reason, in love he reply'd,
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I take them as blessings, then kissed his Bride.
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He soon was perswaded the matter went well,
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Their joys in abundance his grief did excell
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The peace being made between him & his spouse,
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They fill out the Liquor and drink a carrouse.
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