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EBBA 21928

Magdalene College - Pepys
Ballad XSLT Template
The Woody Querristers.
When Birds could speak, and Women they
Had neither good nor bad to say;
The pritty Birds then fill'd with pain.
Did to each other thus complain.
To the Tune of, The Bird-catchers Delight.

O H says the Cuckoo , loud and stout,
I flye the Country round about:
While other Birds my young ones feed,
And I my self do stand in need.

Then says the Sparrow on her nest,
I lov'd a Lass but it was in jest:
And ever since that self same thing,
I made a vow I ne'r would sing.

In comes the Robin , and thus he said,
I lov'd once a well-favour'd Maid:
Her Beauty kindled such a spark,
That on my breast I bear the mark.

The said the Lark upon the Grass,
I lov'd once a well-favour'd Lass:
But she would not hear her true love sing,
Though he had a voice would please a King.

Then said the Blackbird as she fled,
I loved one but she is dead;
And ever since my love I do lack,
This is the cause I mourn in Black.

Then said the bonny Nightingale ,
Thus I must end my mournful tale,
While others sing, I sit and mourn,
Leaning my breast against a thorn.

Oh! says the Water-wag-tail then,
I ne'r shall be my self agen:
I loved one, but could not prevail,
And this is the cause that I wag my tail.

Then said the pritty-colour'd Jay ,
My dearest love is fled away,
And in remembrance of my dear,
A Feather of every sort I wear.

Then said the Leather-winged Batt ,
Mind but my tale, and i'le tell you what
Is the cause that I do flye by night,
Because I lost my hearts delight.

Then said the Green-Bird as she flew,
I loved one that proved untrue:
And since she can no more be seen,
Like a love-sick Maid I turn to green.

Then did begin the Chattering Swallow ,
My love she is fled, but I would not follow;
And now upon the Chimney high,
I sing forth my poor malady.

Oh! says the Owl , my love is gone,
That I so much did dote upon:
I know not how my love to follow,
But after her I hoop and hollow.

Then says the Lapwing as she flies,
I search the Meadows and the Skies:
But cannot find my Love again.
So about I flie in deadly pain.

Then said the Thrush , I squeak and sing,
Which doth to me no comfort bring,
For oftentimes I at midnight,
Record my love and hearts delight.

The Canary-bird she then comes in,
To tell her tale she doth begin;
I am of my dear love bereft.
So I have my own Country left.

The Chafinch then begins to speak,
For love, quoth she, my heart will break;
I grieve so for my only dear,
I sing but two months in the year.

Then, quoth the Magpye , I was crost
In love, and now my dear is lost;
And wanting of my hearts delight,
I mourn for him in black and white.

Oh says the Rook , and eke the Crow ,
The reason why in black we go,
It is because we are forsook,
Come pitty us poor Crow and Rook .

The Bullfinch he was in a rage,
And nothing could his wrath asswage
So in the Woods he would not dwell,
But spends his time in lonesome Cell.

Thus have you heard the Birds complaint
Taking delight in their restraint
Let this to all a pattern be,
For to delight in Constancy.

Printed for J. Clarke, W. Thackeray, and T. P assinger.

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