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EBBA 33920

National Library of Scotland - Crawford
Ballad XSLT Template
The forsaken Maids Frollick
OR,
A Farewell to fond Love,
In which she doth plainly and properly prove,
That a flattering tongue is the ruine of Love,
And therefore all you that are well in your wits,
Beware of Trappans, Maids look to your Hits.
The Tune is, The Knight and begger-wench.

YOu Females all give ear,
To that which I shall declare
and listen unto my Song,
I lov'd a young man as fair
To me he past compare,
my too much Love did me wrong,
He often did vow and profest,
that he would be true to me:
But now he's forsworn
I scorn for to mourn,
Anothers as good as he.

The features of his face
Did yeild becoming grace,
but his tongue & his heart were base:
When first he began to toy,
I seemed a little coy,
and yet my heart leapt for joy.
so frollick he was and free
in coaksing and kissing of me,
that had he but
more me put too't,
I had bin as bad as he.

His teeth did appear like Pearls
His locks they hung down in Curls,
May fetter a thousand Girls,
His forehead is mounted high
And whiter then Ivory,
This is a brave man thought I.
His lips had a very good smack,
His Eyes were both bonny & black,
Thought I, if I wed,
For boord or bed,
Here's one that will hold me tack.

When he about me clung
You would think that an Angel sung,
So musical was his Tongue,
To make my heart believe
He could both sigh and grieve,
The Devil so tempted Eve,
This flattering fauning Elf,
When he had got all my pelf,
And squandred my goods,
He left me i'th sudds
And bid me go hang myself.

BUt tarry, soft and fair,
More Men in the World there are
why should I fall in despair,
Since my first Love is spoyl'd
And I am yet undefil'd,
Ile never be more beguild.
his falshood hath set me free,
and now for another Ile be,
harm watch, harm catch.
he's met with his match.
Let him go and be hanged for me.

My spirits I will advance
I'le learn to sing and dance,
but love now and then by chance,
If any Man me will boord,
Though he swear by his soul & sword,
Ile never believe a Word,
my reason shall be my guide,
my honesty be my pride,
for if we grant them a kiss
men think that it is,
No more but get up and ride.

Tis neither the tongue or pen
Of any false-hearted men,
shall flatter my faith agen,
Since my first Love did get
My Money by slye deceit,
another shall pay the debt.
whatever he gives Ile take
and merry my self Ile make,
Her mind is amiss
That really is
A Lover for Conscience sake.

If a Suitor do turn a Jew,
And will not give Love his due,
Why should a young Wench be true
If Wooing be but the Way
To flatter and then betray,
We'l flatter as well as they,
For they that can break a vow,
Teach women what they shall do
If to play fast and loose
Be good for the Goose,
Tis good for the Gander too.

For if a deceitful man
My treasury will Trappan,
I'le Coakes him agen if I can,
And if there be ne're a hell
For Lovers that lies do tell,
A Woman may do't as well,
If Batchellors prove not true
The Maidens may do so too.
Tis Wit for Wit,
And Hit for Hit,
And this is but Quid for Q[u]o.

But yet the powers above
Do nothing so much approve,
as Loyal and constant Love,
When honest intent invites
And spirit with spirit unites.
those Lovers have true delights,
When all the deceitful Elves
That cozen by twenty and twelves
forty to one
e're the Game be done,
They shall be deceiv'd themselves.


Printed for W. Whitwood at the Golden Bell at Duck-Lane End,
in West-Smith-Field.

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