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Which little time her parents did die
Now let us take warningby thus tragedy
And maidens take care of men’s flattering tongue
For it you conſent you’re forever undone,
the WIDOW.
THE widow can bake, and the widow can brew,
the widow can ſhape, and the widow can ſew,
And mony braw thing the widow can do;
Then have at the widow, my laddie,
With courage attack her baith early and late,
To kiſs her and clap her you manna be blate,
Speak well, and do better, for that’s the beſt gate,
to win a young widow, my laddie.
The widow ſhe's youthful, and never ae hair,
The war of the wearing and has a good ſhair.
Of every thing lovely, ſhe’s witty and fair,
And has a rich jointure, my laddie.
What cou’d yon with better your pleaſure to crown
than a widow, the bonnieſt toaſt in the town,
With naething, but draw in your ſtool and ſit down
And ſport with the widow, my laddie
then till’er, and kill'er with courteſie dead,
Tho’ ſtark love and kindneſs be all that ye can plead
Be heartſome and airy, and to ſucceed,
With a bonney gay widow, my laddie,
Stricke iron while its hot, if ye’d have it to wald,
For fortune ay ravours the active and bauld,
But ruins the wooer that’s thowleſs and cauld,
Unfit for the widow, my laddie.
F I N I S.
