You'll never get her up, Or, Love in a Tree.  
Being a Pleasant new Song, showing how a Maid was got with Child, without lying with a Man.  
To the Tune of Buggering Oats prepare thy Neck.  
 

A Week ago as I did walk  
When it was almost twilight  
Near to the Cage in St. James' Park,  
Appeared to my eyesight,  
I their espied a Soldier gay,  
That was both brisk and airy,  
But could not tell by any way  
What might his business there be.   

When I came nearer I perceived  
He had a Wench before him  
He shuved her up against a Tree  
As if that he was boring:  
I stayed a while and laughed at  
For I had got a cup Sir,  
And cried pray turn her Face about  
Or you'll ne'er get her up Sir.   

The Soldier than replied to me,  
Is it so strange an Object  
To see a Soldier at his Post  
Beget the King a Subject,  
He handled then his Arms so well,  
And called me incompoop too:  
And said i'll neither turn her round,  
Nor strive to get her up joe.   

With that his match he bravely cocked  
Presented and gave Fire,  
She opened to the right and left  
Disdaining to retire,  
The Bullets they did fly about  
And boldly he did venture,  
He with consent of both the sides  
The Sally Port did enter.   
 
 

At every motion of his Breast  
The Bandeleirs did rattle,  
And every toss went too and fro  
Did represent a Battle,  
The Birdcage it was hard at hand  
And every Bird did chatter,  
The Crane, the Vulture and the Crow  
Cried Soldier now have at her.   

The Soldier he did win the Field  
His Sword he so well handed,  
He had much ado to make her yield  
That he should be disbanded,  
And now the loving Combats o'er  
No longer she could tarry,  
And she went off with all the Spoil  
I wish her ne'er miscarry.   

But in short time this handsome Maid  
Her Belly swelled up higher  
And she did seriously affirm  
No Man lay, with or by her,  
Therefore the neighbours all conclude  
Some wanton Fellow by night  
Had stolen away her Maidenhead  
When she did sleep at twilight.   

Her Mistress sometimes called her Whore,  
And said she'd not believe her,  
The skilful Doctors all conclude  
A Tympany did grieve her,  
But then she Soldier came again  
To have the other round bout  
By what he speak in merry mood  
The Riddle all was found out.   

The Maid brought forth a pretty Youth  
As ever eye did see joy,  
And all the Neighbours there in truth  
Call it the Green-wood Tree Boy,  
You Maidens that are kind and free  
Walk to the Park by twilight.  
And take a Touch o'th' Green-wood Tree  
'Tis good to clear your eyesight.   

Let this to young men warning be  
For they do often wild go.  
How they help Maids to climb the Tree,  
For fear they do with Child go  
Though you i'th' Gravey Gap will play  
And take thereof a sup Sir,  
Yet turn her Face the other way  
Or you'll ne'er get her up Sir.    

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