%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> Jockey's Lamentation turn'd into Joy: / OR, / IENNY yields at last. / Being a most delightful New Song, greatly in request both in Court and City. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center Director Patricia Fumerton 1671-1671 Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 04/18/2011 30919

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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

R229023 3 UNKNOWN UNKNOWN a Pleasant New Play-house Tune Jenny Gin A Pleasant New Play-House Tune AH! Jenny Gin, your Eyn do kill, / you'l let me tell my pain; Roxburghe Ballads Editor None None None None Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 4: 18 Jockey's Lamentation turn'd into Joy: / OR, / IENNY yields at last. / Being a most delightful New Song, greatly in request both in Court and City. Jockey's Lamentation turn'd into Joy: OR, IENNY yields at last. Being a most delightful New Song, greatly in request both in Court and City. Jockey's Lamentation turned into Joy: OR, JENNY yields at last. Being a most delightful New Song, greatly in request both in Court and City. 1671-1671 J. Deacon

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<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="bold"><hi rend="italic">Jockey</hi></hi><hi rend="italic">s Lamentation turnd into Joy:</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">OR,</hi></seg> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">JENNY yields at last.</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic"><hi rend="bold">Being a most delightful New Song, greatly in request both in Court and City.</hi></hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="5" rend="left">To a Pleasant New Play-house Tune.</seg>
AH! Jenny Gin, your eyn do kill, youl let me tell my pain; Geud faith Ise lovd against my will, but woud not break my Chain: I eance was calld a bonny Lad, till that fair face of yours, Betrayd the freedom once I had, and all my blither hours. And now, weys me, like Winter looks, my fading showring eyn; And on the banks of shaddowing Brooks, I pass the tedious time: Ise call the streams that glide soft on, to witness if they see, On all the banks they glide along, so true a Swain as me.
No, none could ere so faithful prove, no love can mine exceed; Yet in this Maze Ise still must move, where hopes are all my feed: Then Jenny turn thy eyes on me, O turn thy blushing face; Let Jockey now some comfort spee, or else he dees apace. My flocks they all neglected are, and stray in yonder Grove; Whilst here Ise Court my pritty fair, and fain would have her love: Then prethee Jenny be not coy, for a more constant Swain, Never did bonny Lass enjoy, upon this flowery Plain.
Jenny. Alas kind Jockey, Ise can grieve, to hear you sigh and moan, But weys me, Ise can ner believe, you with such passion burn: Swains now of late have got the knack, poor Damosels to betray, But when they once have what they lack, ah! then theys gang away. Ise cannot think kind Jockey, you who every Lass can Court, To any one can ere be true, should she once yield her Fort: For shoud Ise now believe your tongue, and you shoud break your troth, Weys me, then Jenny is undone, and looseth all sheen hath. Jockey. Ah! my dear Jenny, think not I, my love so shallow build, For if Ise have you not Ise dye, ise swear by this gay field: Ise languish often on these banks, to streams oft tell my moan; Witness ye Swans, whose silver ranks, in grief have seen me drown. Jenny. Alas! could I but think you true, Ise willingly could love;
Yet swear once by your Bonnet blew, you ever kind will prove: And Ise consider ont a while, for, ah me! love is blind, And if you Jenny wont beguile, geud faith Ise may be kind. Jockey. I by my Bonnet swear, and all that ever Ise hold dear, Nay, Ise the woods and flocks do call, to witness too, my dear: O joyful me, come let us gang Ise can no longer stay, My joys to mighty height are sprang, since Jenny says not nay. Jenny. Come take my hand, but Ise do fear, your love in time will waste, And then, weys me, sad grief and care, to death will Jenny haste. Jockey. Fear not my Love, my joy, my Bride, but let us hence away, And you shall find by Virgins side, a blither Lad ner lay.
FINIS. Printed for J. Deacon, at the Sign of the Angel, in Guiltspur-street, without Newgate.