Joan's sorrowful Lamentation: OR, Falsehearted John'sVnkindness to her, at her time of Distress.  
To the Tune of. Let Mary live long.  
Licenced according to Order.  
 
 

COme hither sweet John,  
and let me discover,  
the Smiles of a Lover,  
A right honest Man  
I hope you will prove;  
For I love thee as Life,  
And would fain be thy Wife,  
remember thy Vow;  
Behold my Condition,  
Behold my Condition,  

Love marry me now.    

Then John he replied,  
sweet Joan you must tarry,  
I mean not to marry,  
Why should I be tied  
to sorrow any noise?  
I can live at my ease,  
And walk where I please,  
where Pleasures do flow;  
But if I was married,  
But if I was married,  
I must not do so.   

I never will scold,  
my dearest believe me,  
ah! why should thou grieve-me;  
Here's Silver and Gold,  
and pleasure my dear;  
If to Love thou'lt in●●ine;  
Thou shalt have what is mine,  
Remember thy Vow,  
You see my condition,  
You see my condition,  

Love marry me now.    

John merrily smiled,  
with this pleasant Greeting,  
said he, My dear sweeting,  
Why art thou with Child?  
Yes Johnny she cried,  
You remember, the day,  
We together did play  
Remember your Vow,  
You see my condition,  
You see my condition,  

Love marry me now.    

I tell you sweet Joan,  
thou hast no great reason,  
to sigh at this Season,  
Or make this sad moan  
for such a small Crime:  
'Tis in vain to be sad,  
Rejoice and be glad,  
Let thanks be expressed,  
You'll now be a Mother,  
You'll now be a Mother,  
as well as the best.   

You laugh me to scorn,  
the which makes my trouble  
still seven times double.  
My Life is forlorn,  
ah! where shall I go,  
've forgot what you swore,  
When you seemed to adore,  
my amorous Charms;  
I wish I had never  
I wish I had never  
been clasped in thy Arms.   

Pray where's the harm done,  
If you have hereafter,  
a pretty sweet Daughter,  
Or tattling Son  
to dandle about?  
Yes Dearest, she cried,  
If I might be thy Bride,  
my Joys would remain,  
I should have no reason,  
I should have no reason,  
sweet John to complain.   

Before I would yield,  
what Vows did you make me,  
you'd never forsake me,  
And Love you'd revealed,  
ah! have you forgot,  
How you swore by your Life  
I should soon be gone Wise,  
come think on this John,  
And now let me find you,  
And now let me find you,  
a right honest Man.    

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