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THE GOLDEN GLOVE.

A Wealthy young 'Squire in Tadworth we hear,
He courted a nobleman's daughter ſo dear;
And for to marry her it was his intent,
All friends and relations had given conſent.

The time was appointed for the wedding day,
A young Farmer was choſen to give her away:
As ſoon as the Lady the Farmer did ſpy,
It inflamed her mind, O my heart! ſhe did cry.

She turn'd from the 'Squire, and nothing ſhe ſaid,
Inſtead of being married, ſhe went to her bed:
The thoughts of the Farmer ſtill ran in her mind,
The way for to have him, ſhe ſoon then did find.

Coat, waiſtcoat and breeches, ſhe then did put on,
And a hunting ſhe went with her dog and her gun;
She hunted all round where the Farmer did dwell,
Becauſe in her heart ſhe lov'd him ſo well.

She often had fired, but nothing had killed,
At length the young Farmer came into the field:
Then to diſcourſe with him it was her intent,
With her dog and her gun, to meet him ſhe went.

I thought you had been at the wedding, ſhe cry'd,
To wait on the 'Squire to give him his Bride,
No Sir, ſaid the Farmer, if the truth I may tell,
I'll not give her away, I love her too well.

Suppoſe that the Lady ſhould grant you her love,
You know that the 'Squire your rival will prove;
O, then ſaid the Farmer, I'll take ſword in hand,
By honour I'll gain her, or my life's at demand.