A pleasant new Northern Song. called the two York— shire Lovers.  
To a pleasant new Court tune, Or, the tune of Willy.  

 

WHen Willv once he stayed,  
To fetch home a lamb that strayed,  
under a hill side,  
a bonny Lass he spied,  
Of whom he was well apaied.   

Her cheeks like Cherries growing.  
Her lips like Rosebuds blowing,  
her eyes black and clear,  
as the Slow upon the bréere,  
Or the worm in the hedge lies glowing   

Her waste so small and slender,  
Her skin so soft and tender,  
he sighed and he said,  
that she was a fair Maid,  
And his love to her he'd render.   

The wind did seem to play,  
With her tresses as she lay,  
betwixt hope and fear,  
He was in despairs,  
To give her the time of the day.   

Yet resolved to court this Minion,  
There stepped in a new opinion:  
this timorous Clown,  
thought Phoebe had come down,  
To speak with her loved Endymion.   

His errand quite forgotten,  
He leaned to a tree was rotten,  
he swore by the Mass,  
there was never such a Lass,  
His heart with a shaft was shotten.   

Then boldly he stepped unto her,  
His eyes shot affection through her,  
he cast away fea●es,  
and pricking up his ears,  
Thus Willy began to woo her.   

Good day (quoth he) my honey,  
Thou dearer to me than money,  
I'll lose my little Lamb,  
And gladly give the Dam,  
To lig with a Lass so bonny.   

Now list to what I'll tell thee,  
There's none in shape doth excel thee,  
so thou wilt wed me,  
none happier than thee;  
Nor better day ere befell me.   

Of Nuts I'll give thee plenty,  
And red side Apples twenty,  
my butter I'll lose,  
to make thee summer Cheese,  
And Cream to make Egg pies dainty.   

My Lambs new gowns shall bear thee,  
No daglockes shall ere come near thee,  
the Poultry of the Town  
shall cackle without Down,  
Ere I'll want a soft bed to cheer thee.   

My Bagpipes mirth shall make thee,  
Each morn with a Song I'll wake thee  
at night I'll not fail,  
to tell a merry tale,  
And make thy sad thoughts forsake thee.    

The second part. To the same tune.  
 

WHite Lilies shall pave the Closes,  
Each brier shall blush with Roses,  
the grass green and sweet,  
shall kiss thy tender feet.  
And the Meadows shall yield thee posies.   

With shady bowers set o'er thee,  
With thousand contents I'll store thee,  
while by some clear brook,  
with my little Dog and hook,  
I'll bring my fine Ewes before thee.   

While thus he was close set at her,  
(Quoth she) I suspect the matter,  
for an hour's sport,  
like the false alluring Court,  
The Country has learned to flatter.   

Therefore leave off thy wooing,  
I love not such short doing,  
and come unto the matter,  
I love not for to flatter,  
True affection hates long suing.   

But if your love will prove steady,  
Till Hymen had made him ready,  
then surfeit all night,  
in a captive Maids delight,  
Which yet but air hath fed ye.   

Quoth he I love none above thee,  
For chastity I prove thee,  
as constant I'll prove,  
as the Mate unto the Dove,  
Nay, though thou wert dead, I'll love thee   

And all contents I'll give thee,  
So that thou wilt live with me▪  
my life and all I'll lose,  
ere I my Love abuse,  
And all my rich kith unto me.   

As Willy thus was talking,  
The Shepherd's eyes were walking▪  
each leg and each limb,  
so tricked so trim,  
She thought it no time of balking▪   

Her heart with love was taken,  
God Cupi● did her awaken,  
and cast a cheerful eye,  
upon him by and by,  
To show he was not forsaken.   

His lips to hers he laid,  
She never a word gainsaid:  
thus joining their hands,  
they tied the Nuptial bands,  
Which never till death decayed.   

Such happy joy God send me,  
When I to wed intent me,  
and to each faithful Lover:  
where they be one or other,  
I heartily commend thee.    
FINIS.   

London printed for john Wright.