Tixall Poetry.
171
Fie,
I cry,
Did almost die,
Least Jockie should gang, and come noe more to me.
I cry,
Did almost die,
Least Jockie should gang, and come noe more to me.
Jockie would love, but he would not marry,
And I had a dread least he should not tarry ;
For his cunning tongue with wit was soe guilded,
That I was afraid my heart would have yeilded.
Dayly he prest me,
Blest me,
Kist me,
Lost was the houre me thought when he mist me.
Crying,
Denying,
And sighing ide woo him,
And meikle adoe I had to get fro him.
And I had a dread least he should not tarry ;
For his cunning tongue with wit was soe guilded,
That I was afraid my heart would have yeilded.
Dayly he prest me,
Blest me,
Kist me,
Lost was the houre me thought when he mist me.
Crying,
Denying,
And sighing ide woo him,
And meikle adoe I had to get fro him.
But unluckie fate rob’d me of my iewell,
For Sawny would make him fight in a duel],
Downe in a dale wher ciprus surrounded,
Oh ! ther in my sight poor Jockie was wounded.
For Sawny would make him fight in a duel],
Downe in a dale wher ciprus surrounded,
Oh ! ther in my sight poor Jockie was wounded.
