Excellent new song, called Willie Wastle/The Sheffield prentice

by Robert Burns (1759-1796)

The Sheffield Prentice.

I Was brought up in Sheffield,
got of a high degree,
My parents doated on me,
they had no more but me.
I rolled in such pleasure,
just where my fancy led,
Till I was bound apprentice,
then all my joys were fled.

I did not like my master,
he did not use me well,
I took a resolution,
not long with him to dwell.
Unknown to my poor parents,
from him I run away;
I steered my course to London,
O cursed be the day!

A handsome young lady,
from Holland was there,
She offered me great wages,
to serve her for a year.
O then with great persuasions,
with her I did agree
To go to live in Holland,
which proved my destiny.

I had not been in Holland
past years two or three,
Before that my young mistress
grew very fund of me.
She said her gold and silver
her houses and her land,
If I’d consent to marry her,
should be at my command.

I said dear honoured lady,
I cannot wed you both,
For I have lately promised
and made a solemn oath.
To wed none but Polly,
your pretty chamber-maid;
Excuse me, my dear mistress,
she has my heart betray’d.

Then in an angry humour,
away from me did run,
Resolv’d to be reveng’d on me,
before that it was long.
She being so perplexed,
the could nor be my wife.
That she would seek a project
to take away my life.

One day as we were walking
all in a garden gay,
The flowers they were springing
delightful and so gay,
A gold ring from her finger,
as I was passing by,
She slipt into my pocket,
and for it I must die.

My Mistress swore I robb’d her,
and quickly I was brought.
Before a grave old justice,
to answer for my fault.
Long time I pleaded innocence
but it was no avail;
She swore so sore against me
that I was lent to jail.

Its now the last assizes
are drawing on apace.
And presently the judges
will on me sentence pass.
From the place of confinement
they brought me to the tree,
So woe to my mistress
For she has ruin’d me.

All you that stand around me,
my wretched fate to see,
Don't glory in my downsal;
I pray you pity me,
Believe me I am quite innocent,
I bid the world adieu;
Farewell, my pretty Polly
I die for love of you.