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EBBA 33433

National Library of Scotland - Crawford
Ballad XSLT Template
The Birds Lamentation.
When Birds could speak, and Women they
Had neither Good nor Bad to say,
The pretty Birds then fill'd with pain,
Did to each other thus complain.
To the Tune of The Bird-catcher's Delight.

OH! says the Cuckoo loud and stout,
I flye the Country round about,
While other Birds my young ones feed,
And I myself do stand in need.

Then said the Sparrow on her Nest,
I lov'd a Lass but it was in jest,
And ever since that selfsame thing,
I made a vow I ne'er would sing.

Then said the Black-bird 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.

Oh! says the Water-wag-tail then
I ne'er shall be myself again,
I loved one, but could not prevail,
And this is the cause that I wag my Tail.

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 Melody.

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

Oh! says the Owl that flies by Night,
I have quite lost my hearts delight,
But since my love is gone away,
I never fly out in the day.

Oh! says the squeaking little Thresh,
my sorrows now begin afresh;
For my poor Lover grows exceeding proud,
and that is the cause that I squeal so loud.

Oh! says the Robin Red breast, when
you do me see, conclude it then
The cold hard Winter's drawing nigh,
which makes me towards the Houses fly.

Oh! says the pretty Skie-Lark, I
up to the Element do fly;
I lost my Love that caus'd my pain,
and strive to sing it away in vain.

Oh! says the little Titty-mouse,
in secret holes I keep my House,
Where mournfully I do complain,
and curse my Lover's rash disdain.

Oh! says the Bull finch mind my moan,
like my great loss you ne'er had none;
Then to my Lamentation heark,
as I sit singing in the dark.

Oh! says the Magpye what's the matter
that you admire me when I chatter?
I lost my Love and dearest Mate,
I think 'tis then high time to prate.

Oh! says the Jack daw I'm perplext,
I lost my Love, and am strangely vext;
And now I am forc'd to lodge in Straw
most people still call me Jack-daw.

Oh! says the Gold finch mind me well,
while my sad story I do tell,
It often puts me in a rage,
to see me penn'd up in a Cage.

Oh! says the pretty little Linnet,
I loved well, but the duce was in it,
For I'm forsook for good and all,
though oft in vain on him I call.

Oh! says the pretty Nightingale,
come listen a while unto my Tale;
While other Birds do sleep, I mourn,
leaning my Breast against a Thorn.

When they had mourn'd thus every one,
telling the cause they made such moan;
All of a sudden away they flew,
and ne'er so much as said adieu.

But I suppose to their Nests they went,
to sleep all night was their intent;
But when the morning came again,
then they began for to complain.

Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden-
Ball, in Pye-corner.

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