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EBBA 33133

National Library of Scotland - Crawford
Ballad XSLT Template
The SCOTCH Rivals:
MOGGYS Constancy.
A Pleasant SONG.
To an excellent New Tune: Or, King Williams March in Flanders.
Licensed according to Order.

Ise love my dear Moggy, said Jockey, so fair,
So bright are her Eyes, and so shining her Hair,
Ise gang oer the World, if shed love me again,
But ah! she loves Willy, I see it too plain,
What then must I do, must Ise languish and dye?
Nay, rather to gain her, my broad Sword Ise try;
If Willy be conquerd, my Manhood may prove
A reason that Moggy poor Jockey may love.

Geud Faith here he comes, where the Deel in such hast?
To Moggy Ise warrant yene ganging so fast;
Says Willy, where else but to Moggys kind Arms,
Where kissing, embracing, Ise melt with her Charms,
Whilst on her soft Bosome, my Head I do rest,
Ise more than a Monarch do think I am blest:
Says Jockey, these Favours to me are most due,
Ise saw her, and lovd her, long time before you.

With Curds, and with Cream, I have treated her long,
Ise Piped to her often, and Sung her a Song,
And thought she had lovd me, till you came to Wooe
With new Fashiond Plad, on your Bonnet so Blue,
But Ise not endure it, your broad Sword lug out;
Says Willy, I fear you not, tho youre so stout,
And often have worsted for Moggy Ise seet,
And rather than quit her, Ise dee at her Feet.

Their dreadful Blades then they with Fury did wield,
And by often wounding, did all bloudy the Field,
But as Willy fainted, poor Moggy came by,
And run in between with a piteous cry,
Their Swords not regarding, but void of all fear,
O Villain, said she, will you murther my Dear?
Then took she the Sword from her Willys faint hand,
And twixt him and Death most couragious did stand.

When Jockey confounded at what he had done,
Retird without speaking, yet scarce he was gone,
But oer her poor Willy she weeping did fall,
And gave him a Thousand kind kisses withall,
Her Hair, and her Linnen, she tore off with speed,
To bind up the Wounds that so sadly did bleed;
When kisses revivd him, she Sighing did say
Ah Willy for loving, thou dearly dost pay.

But oh cruel Jockey! how durst you impart
A Wound to the Man that is lodgd in my Heart,
Thou couldst not fauce Loon bereave him of breath,
But at the same time give Moggy her Death,
So linkd to each other, our Lives do remain,
That Death striking one, will be sure of the twain,
Chear up my dear Willy, to make thee now well,
My Wheel, Churm, and Cheese-fat, and Wiggan Ise sell.

At this he lookd up, and did bless his kind Fate,
That it had designd him so constant a Mate;
Scarce kisses would give them the time more to speak,
While Moggy to Crown him, a Garland did make:
Poor Jockey saw this, from a Brake were he stood,
And grieving for shedding a true Lovers Blood,
He hasted, and on his Knees pardon did crave,
The which on Conditions as freely they gave.

That he never more should oppose the design
They had in sweet Wedlocks embraces to join,
Nor envy their Happiness, Joy, and Delight;
Quoth Jockey, Deel take me if ever I Fight,
Or trouble my Thoughts about Moggy again,
In much love may they for ever remain:
Then Home they did go, with such kindness, and joy,
That Envy, nor Jealousie, neer can destroy.

Printed for P. Brooksby, J. Deacon, J. Blare, J. Back.

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