The pair of Northern Turtles: Whose love was firm till cruel Death, deprived them both of life and breath. To a new Northern Tune, or, A health to Betty.  
 

Farewell, farewell, my dearest dear,  
all happiness wait on thee,  
For now alas my Turtle Dove,  
I am departing from thee,  
Nothing but death could change our love  
but now he that will sever,  
And separate those Turtle Doves,  
which long lay lulling together.   

Oft times with kind embraces sweet,  
thy arms have me enclosed,  
With kisses lulling me asleep,  
like Lovers kind disposed,  
Whose firm affections nought but death,  
at any time could seber,  
But now be'l part those Turtle Doves,  
which long lay lulling together.   

O could I stay but now with thee,  
Thou shouldst as constant prove me,  
As Thysbe to her Pyramus,  
so dearly do I love thee,  
As not the love of any man,  
our loves at all should sever,  
Farewell my Love, we now no more,  
shall ne'er lie lulling together.   

Could tears express my grief of heart  
which now I have conceived,  
Whole rivers from mine eyes should flow,  
to tell thee how I'm grieved,  
That now I needs must part from thee,  
since death our loves do sever,  
And that alas we cannot now,  
no more lie lulling together.   

But yet assure thyself my Dove,  
my Turtle and my dearest,  
Above all other men in the world,  
thy love to me was nearest,  
No fancy towards another Mate,  
our loves at all could sever  
So kindly did we always greet,  
while we lay lulling together.   

Which makes me sigh, and weep, & mourn  
to leave my only sweeting,  
But yet I hope in joy and bliss,  
We shall have better meeting;  
Though in this world most cruel death,  
our love and joys do sever,  
Yet we in better joys I hope,  
in heaven shall live together.   

Therefore my deer be not thou sad,  
nor too much discontented,  
O let not my departure hence,  
of thee be now lamented,  
Lest killing grief perplex thy mind;  
for though our bodies sever,  
We shall in the Elysian fields,  
in joy and bliss meet together.   

So once more I hid thee adieu,  
now take thy latest kisses,  
For now pale death hath wounded me,  
farewell all earthly blisses,  
Farewell my dearest Turtle Dove,  
yet though our bodies sever,  
I hope in everlasting bliss,  
we shall shortly meet together.   

The second part of the Northern Turtle; wailing his unhappy fate, In being deprived of his sweet Mate. To the same Tune.  
 

AS I was walking all alone,  
I heard a man lamenting,  
Under a hollow bush he lay,  
full sor he did repent him:  
Alas, quoth he, my Love is gone,  
which causeth me to wander,  
Yet merry will I never be,  
till I lie lulling beyond her.   

Good Lord so soundly could I sleep,  
if that I lay lulling beyond her,  
All the night, till day were light,  
and the Sun did shine upon her,  
Yet early by day I would steal away,  
to keep my Love from slander,  
Yet merry will I never be,  
till I lie lulling beyond her.   

My Love and I will gallantly,  
so many years together,  
Her love was so inclined to me,  
that now I'm loath to leave her:  
But now this wicked world is such,  
that causeth me to wander,  
Yet will I never woman touch,  
till I lie lulling beyond her.   

Like to the Turtle I will mourn,  
in absence of my marrow,  
With bitter tears I cry and mourn,  
my joy is all but sorrow;  
My comfort is to me much care,  
Whilst floods and woods I wander,  
Nay, merry will I never be,  
till I lie lulling beyond her.   

O Gods that make the fowls that fly.  
to love their Mates so dearly,  
Yet for her sake they do refuse,  
to sing or chirp once cheerly;  
What comfort can the world afford,  
what joys then can I render?  
Nay merry will I never be,  
till I lie lulling beyond her.   

A pretty Dame was once my Love,  
till death made separation,  
And she to me did constant prove,  
without dissimulation;  
Yet for her sake still will I weep,  
while I on earth do wander,  
Nay soundly will I never sleep,  
till I lie lulling beyond her.   

Though cruel death hath cut the breath  
of this my comely creature.  
To meet again we have true faith,  
our change is but a feature,  
Death may indeed in bondage keep,  
yet not our love can hinder,  
Then soundly, soundly shall I sleep,  
when as I lie lulling beyond her.   

My dearest deer I come to thee,  
when't pleaseth death to send me,  
The grave I count my dearest home,  
oh quickly then befriend me,  
She proved a Hero true to me,  
and I will be Leander,  
I never shall in quiet be,  
till I lie lulling beyond her.    
FINIS.   

Printed at London for F. Coules, dwelling in the Old-bailey.