THE Young Man and Maid's Recreation OR, The Spring Birds Notes.  
Tune of, Charon make haste, etc. This may be Printed R. P.  
 

My Dearest lets walk through the Meaddows this weather,  
and hear the Birds welcome in the spring,  
Beneath a Shade we will sit down together▪  
and here the Nightingale swéet'y sing  
There as we pass the Chirping Sparrow  
now from the blustering winter tree  
Will strain his throat for to b●d us good morrow,  
as we pass over the flowery Mead.   

The whistleing Blackbird will tune up his throat too,  
to see us loveingly pass along,  
The pretty Lack she will set up her note▪ too,  
and in the Air sing us her fine song;  
The Magpie in the hedge will Chatter,  
and tell the Goodwise of her Guests  
Seeming to tattle of many a matter;  
thus all the Birds will their joys express.   

There we shall here too the sweet singing Thrushes,  
strain up their throats with the Genny-Ren,  
Seated on twigs in the pleasant Green bustes,  
singing as loud as their Throats can strain  
And we shall see upon a Bow,  
on tops of Lofty trees will sit,  
The bonny Raven too, and the black Crow,  
will sing that would make a Loose man beshit.   

There is the Louly Peacock, and the Pheasant,  
gaudy for show, though they Cannot sing,  
Yet for to view their sine feathers 'tis pleasant,  
finer in Colour then any thing;  
There is the Partridge and the Lapwing,  
tho' they sing not, they're Good meat,  
Would make a Hungry ploughman be snaping,  
if he such victuals could have to eat.   
 

There is the Parrot will prittle and prattle,  
calling for any thing he does lack,  
Thus till he's tired he'll twirtle and twattle,  
ask you for a Good Cup of Sack  
The Soul she sits and is confounded  
thus for to hear the Parrot prate,  
Crying, why can you not let a poor roundhed  
sit here alone in his silent state.   

There is the Gold Finch whose delicate singing,  
filleth the Groves with pleasant sound  
And whilst the wood with her harmonies Ringing  
●●cho her note● does aloud resound,  
There is the lang ●a●l'd buttered Buns,  
who nodding si●s upon her r 〈…〉 p,  
There is the Cuckcoo will flutter and mutter,  
and up and down lofty branches jump.   

There are the Turtle D●ves kindly a wooing  
thu●ing their Mates they desin to Love,  
All the day long they are billing and Choosing  
in pleasant branches within the Grove,  
Till they have brought themselves to Labour,  
then on tree tops they build their nest,  
Next comes the Wood pecker like pipe and taber  
and with his pecking disturbs their Rest.   

Now let us speak of the birds of the water  
for we have done with those of the A●r,  
To bring in the rear they come swimming in aste▪  
in narlins brooks and in Rivers Clear  
In the first place there's the Rings-Fisher;  
who lo●●s to dabble in Running streams,  
Tho she is little we ought not to miss her,  
sin●e she is King of those birds it seems.   

There is the Duck and the Drake besides many  
more that are birds of the water sort,  
But they for Diving are better than any,  
and before Dog's mill make Courteous sport,  
There is the silver Swan besides,  
who on the water takes delight  
And up and down the smooth river Glides  
bedecked with fine feathers of S●●wie white.   

Now m● dear Shepherdess let us go ●ouing  
and take the pleasures the fields affords  
We will each other embraces and be ●●ving,  
and charm our s●lves with kind melting words  
The birds shall Smgand we will Dance,  
and I'll a green ●own to the give  
Such a one you may admire by Chance  
and after love me for't while you live.    

Printed for R. Kell. at the 〈…〉