An Excellent and proper New Ballad, Entituled,
OLD LONG SYNE,
Newly corrected and amended, with a large and new
Edition of several excellent Love Lines.
To be sung with its own proper Musical sweet Tune.
|
SHould Old Acquaintance be forgot,
|
and never thought upon;
|
The flames of Love extinguished,
|
and folly past and gone:
|
Is thy sweet Heart now grown so cold,
|
that loving Breast of thine;
|
That thou canst never once reflect
|
on Old long syne.
|
On Old long syne my Jo,
|
on Old long syne,
|
That thou canst never once reflect,
|
on Old long syne.
|
My Heart is ravisht with delight,
|
when thee I think upon;
|
All Grief and Sorrow takes the flight,
|
and speedily is gone:
|
The bright resemblance of thy Face,
|
so fills this Heart of mine;
|
That Force nor Fate can me displease,
|
for Old long syne
|
For Old long syne my Jo,
|
for Old long syne,
|
That thou canst never once reflect,
|
on Old long syne.
|
Since thoughts of thee doth banish grief,
|
when from thee I am gone;
|
Will not thy presence yeild relief,
|
to this sad Heart of mine:
|
Why doth thy presence me defeat,
|
with excellence divine?
|
Especially when I reflect
|
on Old long syne.
|
On Old long syne my Jo,
|
on Old long syne:
|
That thou canst never once reflect,
|
on Old long syne.
|
Oh then Clorinda pray prove more kind,
|
be not ungratefull still:
|
Since that my Heart ye have so ty'd,
|
why should ye then it kill:
|
Sure Faith and Hope depends on thee,
|
kill me not with disdain:
|
Or else I swear I'le still reflect,
|
on Old long syne.
|
On Old long syne my Jo,
|
on Old long syne;
|
I pray you do but once reflect,
|
on Old long syne.
|
Since you have rob'd me of my Heart,
|
it's reason I have yours;
|
Which Madam Nature doth impart,
|
to your black Eyes and Browes:
|
With honour it doth not consist,
|
to hold thy Slave in pain:
|
Pray let thy rigour then resist,
|
for Old long syne.
|
For Old long syne my Jo,
|
for Old long syne;
|
That thou canst never once reflect,
|
on Old long syne.
|
It is my freedom I do crave,
|
by deprecating pain;
|
Since libertie ye will not give,
|
who glories in his Ch[a]in:
|
But yet I wish the gods to move
|
that noble Heart of thine;
|
To pitty since ye cannot love,
|
for Old long syne.
|
For Old long syne my Jo,
|
for Old long syne;
|
That thou may ever once reflect,
|
on Old long syne.
|
Dear will ye give me back my Heart,
|
since I cannot have thine;
|
For since with yours ye will not part,
|
no reason you have mine:
|
But yet I think I'le let it ly,
|
within that breast of thine,
|
Who ha[t]h a Thief in every Eye,
|
to make me live in pain.
|
For Old long syne my Jo,
|
for Old long syne;
|
Wilt thou not ever once reflect,
|
on Old long syne.
|
|
|
|
|
THE SECOND PART.
|
WHere are thy Protestations,
|
thy Vows and Oaths my Dear;
|
Thou made to me and I to thee,
|
in Register yet clear.
|
Is Faith and Truth so violat,
|
to immortal Gods divine,
|
As never once for to reflect,
|
on Old long syne;
|
On Old long syne my Jo,
|
on Old long syne;
|
That thou canst never once reflect.
|
on Old long syne.
|
It's Cupid's Fears or Frostie Cares
|
that makes thy Sprits decay:
|
Or it's an Object of more worth,
|
hath stoln my Heart away?
|
Or some desert makes thee neglect
|
her, so much once was thine.
|
That thou canst never once reflect,
|
on Old long syne.
|
On Old long syne my Jo,
|
on Old long syne;
|
That thou canst never once reflect,
|
on Old long syne.
|
Is Worldly cares so desperat,
|
that makes thee to despair?
|
Is't that, that thee exasperats,
|
and makes thee to forbear?
|
If thou of Ty, were free as I,
|
Thou truely should be mine,
|
If this were true we should renew
|
kind Old long syne.
|
For Old long syne my Jo,
|
for Old long syne,
|
That thou canst never once reflect,
|
on Old long syne.
|
But since that nothing can prevail
|
and all hopes are in vain;
|
From these rejected Eyes of mine,
|
still showers of Tears shall rain:
|
Although thou has me now forgot,
|
yet I'le continu thine;
|
And ne'r neglect for to reflect,
|
on Old long syne
|
On Old long syne my Jo,
|
on Old long syne;
|
That thou canst never once reflect,
|
on Old long syne.
|
If ever I hava a house my Dear,
|
that's truely called mine;
|
That can afford but Countrey chear,
|
or ought that's good therein:
|
Though thou wert Rebell to the King
|
and beat with Wind and Rain,
|
Assure thy self of welcome Love,
|
for Old long syne.
|
For Old long syne my Jo,
|
for Old long syne,
|
Assure thy self of welcome Love,
|
for Old long syne.
|
|
|
|
|