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EBBA 30787

British Library - Roxburghe
Ballad XSLT Template
THE
Merry Wooing of Robin & Joan
The West-Country Lovers.
To the Tune of, The beginning of the World, Or, Sellingers Round, Or, Great Boobe.

O Mother chave been a Batchellor
This twelve and twenty years,
And Ize have often been a wooing:
And yet cham never the near:
Joan Gromball cheel ha none of me
Ize look so like a Lowr:
But I vaith cham as proper a Man as she
Zhe needs not be Zo stout.

She Zaies if ize coud dance and sing,
As Thomas Miller con,
Or cut a Cauper, as little Jack Taylor
O how cheed love me then;
But zoft and fair, chil none of that,
I vaith cham not Zo nimble
The Taylors have nought to trouble his thoughts
But his needle and his thimble.

O Zon th art of lawful Age
And a jolly tide Boy
Ide have thee try her one again
She can but say nay:

Then O Gramarcy Mother
Chill Zet a good Vaces of the matter
Chill dress up my Zelf as fine as a Dog,
And chill have a fresh bout at her.

And first chill put on my Zunday Parrel,
That lacd about the Quarters;
With a pair of Buckram Slops
And a Vlanting pair of Garters
With my Sword tide vast to my Zide
And my Grandfathers Dugen Dagger
And a Peacocks Veather in my Capp,
Then ah how Ise shall swagger.

Nay take the Loekrum Napkin Son,
To wipe thy snotty nose,
Tis no matter vor that chilll Snort is out
And Vlurt it athwart my Cloaths:
Ods bodkins nay fie away
I prethee Son do not so,
Be mannerly Son till thou canst tell
Whether sheel ha thee or no.

But Sirrah Mother hark a while,
Whos that that comes so near:
Tis Joan Gromball, hold thy peace
For fear that she do hear:
Nay out be she chilll dress my words,
In Zuch a Scholards Grace,
But virst of all shall take my Hands,
And lay them athwart her Vace.

Good morrow my Honey my Sugar-Candy
My little pretty Mouse,
Cha hopes thy Vather and Mother be well
At home at thine own House
Ich am came Vart to show my mind
Cham Zure, thou knowest my Arrant:
Zum say Jug that I mun ha thee,
O no good Sir, I warrant.

You must (Sir Clown) is for the King,
And not for such a mome,
You might have said by your leave fair Maid
And let your (must) alone.
Ich am no more a Clown that vlat
Cham in my Zunday Apparel
Ich came vor Love and I pray so takt
Che hopes che will not quarrall.

Joan. Robin dost thou love me so well,
Robin. I vaith abomination,
Why then you should have framd your wodrs
Into a finer fashion.

Vine Vashions and Vine Speeches too,
As Schollards Volks can Utter,
Chad wrather speak but twa words plain
Than half a score and stutter.

Robin. Chave Land, chave House, chave twa [?] Bea[?]
Thats better then fine Speeches,
Joan. Tis a sign that Fortune favours Fools,
She let them have such Riches,
Robin. Hark how she comes upon me now,
I do wish it be a good Zine,
Joan. He that will steal any wit from thee
Had need to rise betime.

Ise, Vaith Ise am no vool Ise Zay
Ise think you Zud know better:
Dost thou think Ise not know I pray,
Good speech and manners better:
Tis sure you know not if you did
Youd neer have been a Lover.
Nay nay, my Dear, nay nay udzlid
Why mun not I discover.

What long in secret ise ha kept
And woud ha longer done it
Had not my Passion been Zo heapd
Ise had no more Room for it.
And are you in Love as you Zay.
Yes Vaith and Troth Ise Zware it
Then prithee Robin set the day
And wees een both be Married.

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