A Lover's Lamentation to his fair Phillida. To new Tune. MY Philida, 〈◊〉, Love, And evermore farewell: I must gee seek a new Love, Yet will I ring her knell. Ding dung, ding dung, ding dung, My Phillida is dead: I'll stick a branch of Willows At my fairy Phillis head. Our bridal bed was made, But my fair Phillida, Instead of ●●lken shade, She now lies wrapped in clay. Ding dung, etc. Her corpse shall be attended With Nymphs in rich array, Till Obsequies be ended, And my Love wrapped in clay. Ding dung, etc. Her Hearse it shall be carried▪ With them which do excel: And when that she is buried, Thus will I will ring her knell. Ding dung etc. I'll deck her Tomb with flowers The rarest that ere was seen: And with my tears as showers, I'll keep them fresh and green. Ding dung▪ etc. In stead of fairest flowers, Set forth by curious Art, Her picture shall be painted In my distressed heart. Ding dung, etc. And ever shall be written, And after shall be said, True love is not forgotten, Though Phillda be dead. Ding dung, etc. Now ever will I dwell Where my True-love doth lie: And in some darksome Cell, There will I pine and dye. Ding dung, etc. In Sable will I mourn, The black shall be my weed, Ah me, I hear some talk, That Phillida is dead. Ding dung, etc. A garland shall be framed, By Art and Nature's skill, With sundry other flowers, In taken of good will. Ding dung, etc. With sundry coloured 〈◊〉, As much I will bestow: They s●●●ld be black and yellow, In token of my woe. Ding ding, etc. True Lovers be not scanting With tears to make me mourn, Since Phillida is wanting, And all my joys are gone. Ding dung, etc. She was my only True-love, My heart can witness well: Wherefore, in sign I love her, Once more I'll wring her knell. Ding dung, ding dung, ding dung, My Phillida is dead, I'll stick a branch of Willows At my fair Phillis head. FINIS. Printed at London by G. P.