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EBBA 37765

British Library - Collection of 225 Ballads
Ballad XSLT Template
The Love Sports of
Wanton Jemmy and Simpering Jenny;
OR
The Servingman and his Mistriss the Chambermaid.
As it was acted at twelve of the Clock at night when their
Master was in Bed.
To a new Tune, called, Tell me Jenny, etc.

The Man speakes.
TEll me Jenny, tell me roundly,
when you will your Heart surrender:
Faith and troth ise love you soundly;
I that was the first Pretender.
Ne'r say nay, nor delay,
here's my heart, and there's my hand too;
All that's mine shall be thine,
Body and Goods at your Command too.

The Maid speakes.
Ah! how many Maids (quoth J[e]nny)
have you promis[']d to be t[r]ue to?
[A]y, I think the Devil's in you,
[?] kiss a body so as you do.

What do you do? let me go,
I can't abide such foolish doing;
Get you gone, naughty man,
fy, is this your way in wooing?

The Man speakes.
Prithee Jenny, why so fretfull?
tell me how I did displease ye:
Why is Jenny grown so hatefull,
that you e're should bid him leave ye?
If that kiss was amiss
a fault I did not then know;
Since 'tis done, let't alone,
and bite me if I do again so.

The Maid speakes.
Lord! how strangely you provoke me!
let me go i'le swear i'le beat ye:
Such another kiss will choak me,
surely you intend to eat me:
What d' ye mean? what's your aim?
why d' ye give me cause to chide ye?
Get you gone, naughty man,
I vow and swear I can't abide ye.

The Man speakes.
Jenny needs must know my meaning
why I kiss her with such ferver,
Kisses are not worth the naming
to those pleasures I reserve her:
Be not coy, let's injoy
what the gods and Nature gave us,
Youeh with Love still should move,
when we are Old the joy will leave us.

The Maid speakes.
Jemmy surely does not love me,
if he did he would not wooe me,
Nor so passionately move me
for the thing that will undo me:
Pray give o're, pray no more,
why d'ye tremble now and start so?

Get you gone you naughty man,
you've rais'd up something at my heart lo.

The Man speakes.
I have that will quickly Cure ye,
if you will but be my Patient;
Of your health I will assure ye,
and will do't this very instant:
I have a Pill will not fail
if your stomach will endure it;
Maid. Get you gone, foolish man,
i'm sure one Dose will never cure it.

The Maid speakes again.
Well, i'le swear you're so unruly
that I shall be forc'd to leave ye;
Is this your loving me so truly?
don't you think Old Nick will have ye?
Fy, nay pish, what d'ye do,
is this your filthy way to cure me?
Get you gone, naughty man,
I vow and swear I can't endure ye.


London, Printed for Phil. Brooksby at the
Golden ball in West Smithfield.

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