A New SONG of Moggie's Jealousy: OR, Jockeys Vindication  
Moggy from Jockey she needs would depart,  
Though Jockey he loved his Moggy at heart,  
Jockey he wondered at Moggies strange huff,  
But Moggy was jealous, and that was enough.  
Tune of, You London Lads be merry; Or, Wilt thou be wilful still my Joe  

 
 

THere was an a bonny young Lad;  
was keeping of bonny win Sheep;  
There was an a bonny young Lass,  
was a wading the waters so deep:  
Was a wading the waters so deep,  
and a little above her knee;  
And still she cried bonny Lad;  
wilt thou come and Mow with me:   

Where art thou ganging my moggy?  
and where art thou ganging my Dove  
And wilt thou go from thy poor jockey,  
and so dearly that he does love?  
Iseganging to fait Edinburgh,  
to spit for a Lad that is true;  
And if I return not to morrow,  
than Jockey Ise bid thee adien.   

How thinkst thou that I can endure,  
to part with thee all along night?  
When I am not able, thou art sure,  
to have thee once out of my sight:  
'Tis a folly my Jockey to flatter,  
for I must gang where I did tell,  
Or offer to mince up the matter,  
so Jockey Ise bid thee farewell.   
 
 

BUt shall I gang with thee my fair one,  
and shall I gang with thee my Joe?  
And shall it be welcome my dear one,  
togang with my moggy, or no?  
We'll hand in hand trip to the house,  
that stands within ken of the Town:  
And there I will have a carouse,  
and for ever take leave of my loon.   

But what have I done my moggy,  
that thou art so willing to part  
With poor unfortunate jockey,  
and break his too loving heart.  
He warrant his heart for a Plack,  
ye'as mere a Mon then to rue,  
For a thing that ye cannot lack,  
and so Jockey Ise bid thee adieu.   

Then must we part, my jewel,  
and I never see thee no mere?  
And canst thou be so cruel,  
to eyn that loves thee so dear?  
d●n have I not loved thee as muckle,  
and have I not shown it as true?  
But I scorn to another to truckle,  
so Jockey Ise bid thee adieu.   

Now Heaven preserve my good woman,  
Odds Bread she's jealous I trow;  
My moggy these tires are not common;  
thy heart has had muckle to do:  
'Tis only a lovesick mistake;  
that ever can make me untrue;  
But the Parson amends he shall make,  
if you never will bid me adieu.   

How willingly I do believe thee,  
and tie thee once more to my heart●  
But if thou again does deceive me,  
for ever, for ever we'll part:  
But Ice am in hopes that my Jockey,  
will never more prove so untrue,  
But ever be kind to his moggy,  
nor Ise never bid him adieu.   
FINIS.    

Printed for J. Deacon, at the Angel in Guiltspur-street.