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EBBA 34071

National Library of Scotland - Crawford
Ballad XSLT Template
The Mother and Daughter; Or,
A Dialogue betwixt them composed in Verse,
If you will attend, I will rehearse:
How the Mother did chide the Daughter for folly,
The Daughter with her Mother did not dally,
To silence her Mother her self she did fix,
And proved her Mother to be a Meretrix.
She still'd her Mothers tongue that so loud did sound,
Nuncl'd her Mam, and got twice fifty pound.
Those two Fadillaes, as chaste as Jane Shore,
Live quiet, that never did so before.
The Tune is, Come Sweet-heart and Embrace thine own: or, The dancing of primrose-hill

WHy how Nan, what is the reason,
that you look so pale and wan?
Nan, Alas Mother, all this Lent season,
I am scarce able to go or to stand:
Hot broth it doth me cherish,
warm flesh it doth me nourish,
This cruel hard Lent, the time I repent,
pease-pottage hath poysoned me.

It is a thing was never heard,
that Pease in Lent they should be poyson,
Some other thing is to be fear'd,
but thou wilt not tell me the reason;
Thy face it looks so pale and yellow,
thy nose is sharp, and thy eyes are hollow:
Some thing's the matter, good Nan, do not flat-ter,
tell me the truth whatever betide.

O Mother I will speak the truth,
and not a lye to you will tell;
You know that George is a hansome Youth,
and other young men doth excell:

He loves me beyond all measure,
I am his joy, his delight and his treasure;
Fine things he doth give me, if you'l believe me,
O mother I love his company.

How come you to love him now,
when formerly you did him hate?
Nan. Mother I do protest and vow,
I value him at a mighty rate:
I love him as I love my life,
he said that I should be his wife,
If I was willing with him to be billing,
He vow'd that I should be his Bride.

I walkt with him into the field,
and there I cropt a dainty flower;
He imbraced me and we bill'd,
and in the space of half an hour,
And lying down upon his Belly,
what sport we had I will not tell ye:
He did embrace me, kiss me and face me,
O Mother he made me merry.

O fie upon thee for thy pains,
now to be sure thou art with-child:
And honest people will thee disdain,
and I cannot be reconcil'd.
Lent Peas hath poysoned up your belly,
'twas something else, did I not tell ye,
And for this feat I will thee heat,
Nan. O Mother pray hold your hand.

Come brazen-face let me see your breast,
that I may know what will ensue,
And looking on't she did protest,
that her Daughter was with-child with two.
Nan. I think that twenty times before,
I have been on the very same score:
Yet never beguil'd to prove with-child,
O mother pray pardon me.

To pardon thee it is not best,
neither will I put up this wrong:
Nan. Sure Mother you do but jest,
I do you desire to hold your tongue:
If I should speak that which is true,
and that which I have seen by you:
You would not be willing to hear of your billing
O Mother i've mumpt you now.

You dirty slut, why did you ever
see me in action of disgrace?
Nan. Remember the Weaver and you together
you said his beard did prick your face:
You did say he was too slack,
and that same time he hurt your back,
And being too kind, you broke your wind,
O mother i've mumpt you now.

Further I do put into your head,
and remember as well as I can:
The Tinker laid you upon the bed,
and said he was a mettal man.
He peeping in your face likewise,
some of the smoot fell in your eyes,
And in that place he collied your face,
O mother i've mumpt you now.

And going to a Fair on a day,
you said that it was for your pleasure,
And there you must buy new array,
and have the Taylor to take measure.
And coming home you did lie down,
the Taylor gave you a green gown:
Being in the Corn you catch a Thorn:
O mother i've mumpt you now.

O good sweet Nan, come hold thy tongue,
thou art too hard for me I find,
I will never do thee Wrong,
for every Cat will after kind,
Thou art my dear Daughter,
i'le give the right ready hereafter:
If thou will quiet and will not repeat,
and never to mump thy mother no more.

Upon condition you will give
me all the bonds of your use-money,
To maintain me bravely while I live,
that I may be both blith and bonny:
Mother. Yes, daughter that I am willing,
and excuse thee another time for billing,
Two fifty pound bonds i'le give into thy hands,
Sweet Nan it is all thy own.

Printed for P. Brooksby, at the Golden-Ball, near the Hospital-gate, in West-smithfield.

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