An ANSWER to the Bonny SCOT; Or, The Sorrowful Complaint of the Yielding LASS.  
In Care, and Grief, without Relief,  
this yielding Lass was left;  
in this Distress, and Heaviness  
she was of Hopes bereft.  
To the Tune of The Spinning-Wheel  
Licenced according to Order.  
 depiction of a spinning wheel  
 depiction of a woman  
 depiction of a man  

Behold, I pray, what's come to pass,  
when twenty W●●ks was 〈◊〉 and gone,  
This bonny youthful yielding Lass,  
did sigh, and bitterly t●ke on,  

Saying My Grief I may reveal,  
Too soon I left my Spinning-wheel.    

With honey words, both soft and sweet,  
alas he has deluded me.  
My Heart within my Breast does beat  
to see my woeful Destiny▪  

My Virgin Treasure he did steal,  
Too 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 my Spinning-wheel.    

Each Compliment I did ●●●ieve,  
so Serpentlike he did betray,  
That had there been a second Eve,  
she har●ly could ha●e said him nay:  

The sad Effects of this I feel,  
Too soon I left my Spinning-wheel.    

He uttered not one word of Truth,  
but with Delusions led me on,  
And cropped the Rose-bud of thy Youth,  
so that my splendid Glory's gone:  

My wounded Heart no one can heal  
Too soon I left my Spinning-wheel.    
 

I Am a Damsel now defiled,  
and am exposed to open shame,  
For here I find myself with Child,  
and have no Father for the same:  

My very Tears does Grief reveal,  
Too soon I left my Spinning-wheel.    

For my young Scot sad moan I make,  
whose Beauty did my favour win;  
I find him like a painted Snake,  
that's fair without, and false within:  

His cruel Sting I yet do feel,  
Too soon I left my Spinning-wheel.    

He came with a most noble Grace,  
so sweet, so charming, fair and trim;  
That I no sooner see his Face,  
but straight I did consent to him;  

Such flames of Love I then did feel;  
Which made me leave my Spinning-Wheel.    

My Love no favour will allow,  
he's gone, and yields me no relief;  
For that small dram of Pleasure, now  
I feel a Hundred weight of Grief:  

My Sorrow I cannot reveal,  
Too soon I left my Spinning-wheel.    

Some Gallants most deceitful are,  
as by Experience I may say,  
They'll call a Damsel charming Fair,  
until their Hearts they do betray:  

In grief I may this truth reveal,  
Too soon I left my Spinning-wheel.    
FINIS.   

Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden-Ball in Pie-corner.