%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Laundry-Maids Lamentation/ for the loss of her Seaman./ The Seaman made a mighty shew of Love,/ And vow'd & swore that he would constant prove./ He brought her presents from the Golden shore,/ And thus unlockt her Heart and Chamber-door:/ But when he'd gain'd his will he march'd away,/ And left his Mistris with a Kid to play./ Now she laments, and tears her flaxen Hair;/ He's shipwrackt, and she's ready to dispair. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1664-1696 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 08/17/2007 21826

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

4.164 R188423 1 Ah Jenny Jenny Gin Ah Jenny COme mourn with me fair Nymphs, come/ (mourn/ my grief's beyond compare, Pepys 4.164 Wing L619[A] Pepys Library The Pepys ballads : facsimile volume Editor W.G. Day D.S. Brewer Cambridge [England] 1987 Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 4: 164 The Laundry-Maids Lamentation/ for the loss of her Seaman./ The Seaman made a mighty shew of Love,/ And vow'd & swore that he would constant prove./ He brought her presents from the Golden shore,/ And thus unlockt her Heart and Chamber-door:/ But when he'd gain'd his will he march'd away,/ And left his Mistris with a Kid to play./ Now she laments, and tears her flaxen Hair;/ He's shipwrackt, and she's ready to dispair. The Laundry-Maids Lamentation for the loss of her Seaman. The Seaman made a mighty shew of Love, And vow'd & swore that he would constant prove. He brought her presents from the Golden shore, And thus unlockt her Heart and Chamber-door: But when he'd gain'd his will he march'd away, And left his Mistris with a Kid to play. Now she laments, and tears her flaxen Hair; He's shipwrackt, and she's ready to dispair. The Laundry Maid's Lamentation for the Loss of Her Seaman. The Seaman Made a Mighty Show of Love,and Vowed and Swore That He Would Constant Prove. He Brought Her Presents from the Golden Shore, and Thus Unlocked Her Heart and Chamber Door: but When He'd Gained His Will He Marched Away, and Left His Mistress with a Kid to Play. Now She Laments, and Tears Her Flaxen Hair;He's Shipwrecked, and She's Ready to Despair. 1/2 sheet oblong folio, 200 x 316 cropped right edge, torn left and top edges, creased surface, uneven inking vertical rules and cast fleurons 1664-1696 Printed for P. Brooksby at the golden ball in Pye-Corner. P. Brooksby BBTI

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 Taxonomy used by Pepys to Organize Ballads in Albums A Small Promiscuous Supplement Devotion & Morality Drinking & Good Fellowship History - True & Fabulous Humour, Frollicks &c Love Pleasant Love Pleasant and Unfortunate Love Unfortunate Marriage Sea State & Times Tragedy Various Subjects Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/health alcohol animals/nature appearance Bible/biblical figures buildings/architecture catastrophe children class clothing/fashion country/nation crime death economics/trade entertainment family/procreation folklore gender historical figures & events holidays/seasons infidelity law London love maritime marriage military/war monstrosity mythology/Classical world news nobility/court politics/government punishment religious concepts religious figures religious types & sects royalty rural life servitude sex/sexuality supernatural/magic The New World travel trickery/deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgarities/crass humor Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 8/17/2007 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America Sea death family/procreation love maritime 08/17/2007 Checker Eugene Hart Checked Metadata 08/13/2007 Checker Eugene Hart Entered into X-Ballad 11/07/2006 Transcriber Cat Zusky Original Transcription 10/29/2004 Bibliographer Liberty Stanavage Bibliographic SQL Database Record Created
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C Ome mourn with me fair Nymphs, come mourn my grief's beyond compare, My trusty Will will ne'r return, he's deaf to Nannys Prayer: I cry, I mourn both night and day, to think of my Willy 's Fate; For his Return I alwaies pray, but Prayers are all too late. Some Calenture has seiz'd his breast, for i'm inform'd he's dead; Some Shark his body has possest, his soul to Heaven is fled: [B]ut yet I dream he comes to me with a gentle breeze of wind; I think that he cries Helm a Lee , but 'tis a Dream I find.
South-East by East, methinks he cries, and stiddy, stiddy now; And now the Rudder silent lies that us'd the Sea to Plough; Tom Tinker 's Course I see him sail, i'm loaded then with joy; But when I wake my senses fail, and all my hopes destroy. I often wish for some small Boat, that I might put to Sea; That I unto my fate might float, and on the Billows play Till they had toss'd me out of sight, and all my sorrows drown'd: But 'tis in vain, for such delight is no where to be found.
S Ometimes I covet for to be some greazy Sea-Cooks Mate, And rub my fingers presently with Tar and Pitch; in state Thus I to Wapping haste away, to Redriff and Blackwall ; But ne'r a Ship that puts to Sea will Will y's Darling call. Then strait I to the Exchange do fly, and court the Captains there, But they're so huffish and so high, they ne'r regard my Prayer. Now whither shall I run or go to find a brackish Grave? I'le have no Tomb on Earth below, the Sea shall my Body have. My Kid and I alike shall dye, The curled waves will be The only Grave for him and I that I desire to see: The storms shall toss us to and fro upon his sandy shore, Our Lodgings we'l take up below, for there is room good store.
Though he to me did prove unkind, i'le not be so to him; I value not the Tide nor Wind, nor where I sink or swim: Let Neptune 's frothy bounds still swell, and mount up to the Sky, Or let them throw me down to Hell, so I may in pickle lye The Watry Region's my delight since there he lost his life, I'le be his Comrade soon this night, since I cannot be his Wife. I'le float from place to place each hour until I find him out; No fish my body shall devour, but they shall cast me out. And when I find my Lover out, I softly will complain, And ask him why he went without his pretty little Swain, The little Kid that came with me; and if he silent stands, I'le give him gentle Kisses three, and wring him by the hands.
Printed for P. Brook[s]by at the golden ball in Py-Corner.