The Shepheards Lamentation for the Losse of His Love
1.
Down lay the Shepheards Swain,
So sober and demure,
Wishing for his wench again,
So bonny and so pure.
With his head on hillock low,
And his armes on kembow;
And all for the losse of her Hy nonny nonny no.
2.
His teares fell as thin,
As water from a Still,
His haire upon his chin,
Grew like tyme upon a hill:
His cherry cheeks were pale as snow,
Testifying his mickle woe;
And all was for the loss of her hy nonny nonny no.
3.
Sweet she was, as fond of love,
As ever fettred Swaine;
Never such a bonny one
Shall I enjoy again.
Set ten thousand on a row,
Ile forbid that any show
Ever the like of her, hy nonny nonny no.
4.
Fac’d she was of Filbard hew,
And bosom’d like a Swanne:
Back’t she was of bended yew,
And wasted by a span.
Haire she had as black as Crow,
From the head unto the toe,
Down down, all over, hy nonny nonny no.
5.
With her Mantle tuck’t up high,
She foddered her Flocke,
So buckesome and alluringly,
Her knee upheld her smock;
So nimbly did she use to goe,
So smooth she danc’d on tip-toe,
That all men were fond of her, hy nonny nonny no.
6.
She simpred like a Holy-day,
And smiled like a Spring,
She pratled like a Popinjay,
And like a Swallow sing.
She tript it like a barren Doe,
And strutted like a Gar-crowe:
Which made me so fond of her, hy, &c.
7.
To trip it on the merry Down,
To dance the lively Hay,
To wrastle for a green Gown,
In heat of all the day,
Never would she say me no.
Yet me thought she had though
Never enough of her, hy, &c.
8.
But gone she is[,] the blithest Lasse
That ever trod on Plain.
What ever hath betided her,
Blame not the Shepheard Swain.
For why, she was her own foe,
And gave her selfe the overthrowe,
By being too franke of her hy nonny nonny no.