Fie on the WARS that hurried WILLIE from me.  
An excellent New Song, Much in request.  

FIE on the Wars that hurried Willie from me,  
Who to love me just had Sworn,  
They made him Captive sure to undo me;  
woe' me he will ne'er return.  
A Thousand Lowns abroad will fight him;  
He from Thousands never will run:  
Day and Night I did entreat him  
To stay safe from Sword and Gun,  
I used alluring Graces  
With meikle fond Embraces  
Now Sighing: then Crying. Tears drooping fall,  
But had he my soft Arms.  
Preferred to Wars Alarms:  
My Soul groweth Mad,  
It's sore oppressed and sad,  
I fear in my Fir, I had granted all.   

I washed and painted, to make me look provoking  
Snares that told me would catch the Man:  
And on my Head high Commodes had cocking,  
Which made me look as tall again  
For a new gown I paid much Money,  
Which with Gold Flowers abroad did shine:  
My love well might think me Gay and Bonny,  
No Scots Lass was e'er so fine:  
My Petticoat was spotted,  
Earring too, with Froinge knotted,  
Laced Shoes, silk Hoes gartened o'er the Knee  
But oh the fatal thought,  
To Willie these were nought,  
But I'll ride to the Town  
And riffle with dragoon  
And the silly Lows might have plundered me:   
FINIS.