Belfast maid's lamentation for the loss of her sweetheart/The Whistling Daughter

For other versions of this work, see The Whistling Daughter.

Divider from 'The Belfast Maid's Lamentation', a chapbook printed in Glasgow in 1803

THE WHISTLING DAUGHTER.

O mammy, mammy; I long to be a bride,To have a lusty young man to ly by any side;For it is well know, I am a woman grown,And 'tis a pity one so pretty as I should ly alone.

O daughter I was fifteen before that I was wed,And I was ne'er tired of my sweet maidenhead.O mammy that may be, but 'tis not so with me,I'm young and airy, almost weary, I can't ly alone.

O daughter, daughter, I'll pull your courage down,And with hard labour pull off your sack & gown,And send you each day to the fields a making hay,O daughter, loving daughter, then perhaps you may.

I pray don't send me to the fields, for young menAre tempting, I perhaps may yield to the thingI would not do, nor dare not for to name,But tell me, loving mother, what can young men mean.

Whistle, daughter, whistle, & you shall have a sheep,I cannot whistle, mother, nor neither can I sleep,My maidenhead, I swear, it fills my heart with care,'Tis a burden, heavy burden, more than I can bear.

Whistle, daughter, whistle, & you shall have a cow,I cannot whistle, mother, neither will I now,My maidenhead, I swear, it fills my heart with care,'Tis a burden, heavy burden, more than I can bear.

Whistle, daughter, whistle, and you shall have a man,Tol de rol dary, don't you hear I can,Silence, hussey, what makes you whistle now?'Cause mam, I love a mam better than sheep or cow.