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You gods that sees a future state,
Some other beasts may have their fate;
May the gods transform me to fish,
That I might swim in a jug of this.
Was I cast on some distant shore,
Where do the foaming billows roar,
For my desire would be in this,
To a lovely lass and a jug of this.
Yet was I sick both pale and wan,
And scarcely able for to stand,
All my own cure could be in this,
A lovely lass and a jug of this.
When I am dead and laid in my grave,
No corse-like-tomb-stone let me have:
Give me my desire and crown my wish,
Drink o'er my grave ⟨hogs⟩head of this.
BLIND CUPID
BLIND Cupid for ever,
I defy thy both quiver:
Neither do I regard thy long bow,
Nor arrow shall prick me,
Nor woman outwit me,
I am free from all sorrow and woe.
If Jenny had been loyal
I had ne'er stood the trial,
Of any girl but her in life,
I oftentimes told her,
Which made her the bolder,
’Twas on purpose to make her my wife.
