True Love Requited: Or, The Bailiff's Daughter of Islington.  

The youngman's Friends the Maid did scorn,  
'Cause she was poor and left forlorn;  
They sent the Esquire to London fair,  
To be an Apprentice seven year.   

And when he out on's time was come,  
He met his Love a going home,  
And then to end all farther strife,  
He took the Maid to be his Wife.   
To a North-Country Tune. Or, I have a good old Mother at home.  
 
 

THere was a youth, and a well-beloved youth  
and he was a Esquires Son,  
He loved the Bailiffs daughter dear  
that lived in Islington.   

She was coy, and she would not believe  
that he did love her so;  
No, nor at any time she would  
any countenance to him show.   

But when his friends did understand  
his fond and foolish mind,  
They sent him up to fair London  
an Apprentice for to bind.   

And when he had been seven long years  
and his Love he had not seen,  
Many a tear have I shed for her sake  
when she little thought of me.   
 

All the Maids of Islington  
when forth to sport and play;  
All but the Bailiffs Daughter dear,  
she secretly stole away.   

She put off her Gown of grey,  
and put on her puggish Attire;  
She's up to fair London gone  
her true Love to require.   

As she went along the Road,  
the weather being hot and dry,  
There was she aware of her true Love,  
at length came riding by.   

She stepped to him as red as any Rose,  
and took him by the Bridal Ring,  
I pray you kind Sir give me one penny  
to ease my weary Limb.   

I prithee sweetheart canst thou tell me  
where that thou wast born?  
At Islington kind Sir, said she,  
where I have had many a scorn.   

I prithee sweetheart canst thou tell me  
whether thou dost know  
The Bailiffs Daughter of Islington?  
she's dead, Sir, long ago.   

Then will I sell my goodly Steed,  
my Saddle, and my Bow,  
I will into some far Country,  
where no man doth me know.   

O stay, O stay, thou goodly Youth  
she's alive, she is not dead;  
Here she standeth by thy side,  
and is ready to be thy Bride.   

O farewell grief, and welcome joy,  
ten thousand times and more;  
For now I have seen my own true Love,  
that I thought I should have seen no more.    

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