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EBBA 34195

National Library of Scotland - Crawford
Ballad XSLT Template
The Huntington-shire PLOW-MAN:
The Plowmans Complaint
For the Loss of his Hearts Delight.
True Love alone, does cause my moan,
such Sorrows I possess,
I being left of joys bereft,
To languish in Distress.
Tune of, My Child must have a Father.
This may be Printed. R.P.

YOung-Men and Maids I pray attend,
unto a Plow-Mans Ditty;
It is to you these Lines I send,
in hopes that you will pitty
My sad and woeful Destiny,
I being now forsaken;
I thought she lov'd no man but me,
yet I was much mistaken.

I counted her my Hearts Delight,
and doated on her Beauty;
I cou[l]d have serv'd her Day and Night,
and counted it my Duty:

My Love to her I made appear,
at e'ry time and season,
Yet I am slighted by my Dear,
and know not what's the reason.

Except the meaness of my state,
does cause her to refuse me;
But if the truth I may relate,
she ought not to abuse me:
And hold my Person thus in scorn,
in giving the denyal;
For tho' I am a Plowman Born,
my Heart is true and Loyal.

No rest or quiet could I find,
my Love is out of measure;
She still was running in my mind,
I counted her my Treasure:
But yet at me she still would scoff,
instructed by her Mother,
And at the length did leave me off,
and Marry'd with another.

I count this prov'd my Overthrow,
by being far asunder,
So that I daily could not go,
therefore I now lye under
The sence of sorrow, care and grief,
which I am still possessing,
And ne'r expect to have relief,
or to enjoy the blessing.

Tho' she by Letters knew my mind,
which I was often sending,
Yet now I find her most unkind,
my Grief is without ending:
In Chains of Love I here must lye,
in Care and Grief surrounded;
Alas! I freely now could dye,
for why my Heart is wounded.

But tho' you thus do torture me,
as I too well do know it,
I must and will your Captive be,
for I cannot foregoe it:
Therefore always, I'le write thy praise,
in this my love-sick Story,
For I am Will the Plowman still,
and will set forth thy Glory.

She had been true to Cupids Laws,
and never coy nor cruel:
Had not her Mother been the cause,
I had enjoy'd my Jewel:
On Wealth her Mothers mind was bent,
she greeded out of measure,
But Love will last when Money's spent,
then who wou'd Wed for Treasure?

Young Men that hear me now this day,
which have a mind to Marry;
Pray do not linger and delay,
there's danger if you tarry:
When e're you understand and find,
that others are about her,
Pray take her while she's in the mind,
for fear you go without her.

Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden-Ball in Pye-Corner.

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