The mournful Maiden's Complaint for the loss of her Maidenhead; Or, A warning for other Maidens to take warning by.  

Youngmen will use so much dissimulation,  
This Maid she may say so, she is out of fashion,  
He complemented with so false a speech,   

She believed his words, and there was nothing such,  
It caused her for to be a wanton Girl,  
Now she reputes, because her bellies fall.   
The Tune is, Old Ale has undone me.  
With Allowance.  
 

I Am a poor distressed Maid,  
That by a youngman hath been betrayed,  
I may make my case known to my friends,  
But that will make me no amends,  
For he had such a nimble Tongue,  
I believed his word then all along,  
That it grieves my heart with woo,  
He has filled my belly I cannot go.   

He said that he would marry me;  
If I to him would but agree,  
I believed him every word he said,  
Until he had got my Maidenhead.  
Now Maidens all be ruled by me,  
For youngmen they falsehearted be,  
They swear and lie, and tear and pull,  
Until they have filled your belly full.   
 

He said I was a pretty Maid,  
And many fine words be to me said,  
That he would make of me his Wife,  
And love me as dear as he loved his life.  
He got me between his bow and string,  
And on a bed he did me fling,  
For to cry out it was but vain,  
For I swear that time I felt no pain.   

But by that means I was undone,  
I must now either have a daughter or a Son,  
Therefore young Maidens pity me,  
You see how false some youngmen be.  
They tug and lug to try their skill,  
The  off your back to have their will,  
I may say so now to my woo,  
He has filled my belly I cannot 〈◊〉.   
 

NOw I may go like one forlorn,  
And curse the day I saw this Man,  
Yet the colour of his beard and hair,  
Did make me for to stand in fear.  
For it is red and sanded too,  
And that colour it ne'er is true,  
Therefore young Maidens consider well,  
They seek to fill your bellies full.   

There is several men in London City,  
Both English, French, now they can fit ye,  
Will strive to spoil a Maidenhead,  
And make a Who●e of an honest Maid.  
But yet young Maidens now be wise,  
And believe none of their flattering lies,  
You must have some spirit and not be too dull,  
Or else they will fill your belly full.   

Yet men they 〈◊〉 all be blamed,  
Though some he 〈◊〉 that has no shame,  
There's some that 〈◊〉 not what they do,  
Though they 〈…〉 and body too.  
Therefore you●● 〈◊〉 have a care,  
Though I was 〈◊〉 in 〈◊〉 snare,  
It makes me 〈…〉 my 〈◊〉,  
Because I go 〈…〉   
 

But if I had scaped this Carrat-head;  
And never a believed what he had said,  
But his mouth it was so full of lies,  
And all the tricks he could devise.  
And his money he would spend on me,  
And his Ale and Cakes was very free,  
But the Devil take him for his skill,  
For I go now with my belly full.   

Now to conclude my mournful tone,  
Though I am forced to make this moan,  
Now I must sing Lullaby,  
To quiet my child when it both cry.  
If this Man had constant been to me,  
According to his vow truly,  
I'd not been called a Wanton Girl,  
Because I have my belly full.   

Young Maidens all be not too bold,  
You hear the woeful tale I have told,  
Believe no false youngman I say,  
For that has brought me to decay.  
I am not the first that has done amiss,  
Nor I must not be the last that will be kissed,  
But it grieves me, they call me a wanton g●●●,  
Because I go with my belly full.    

Printed-for, 〈◊〉, over against Staples-Inn in Houlbourn, near Grays-Inn-Lane.