Sons of the Tyne's garland/The North Country Lass

The North Country Laſs.

THere was a fair Maiden, her Name it was Gillian,
Her Manners were Sage, tho' her Carriage was free,
You ſcarcely would meet ſuch a Girl in a Million,
Her Charms were the Pride of the North Country;
All ſhe ſaid, came ſo wittily,
She danc'd with ſuch Grace, and ſhe chaunted ſo prettily.
No Madames of France, nor Signiora's of Italy,
Could cope with this Laſs of the North Country.

Oh Lords, and fine Gentlemen, crowed to woo her,
Each begging her moſt humble Servant to be,
One brought Coach and Horſes, ſome proffer'd Gold to her
Some Cloaths and fine Jewels most Splendid to ſee,
But in vain, all their Brav'ry
She ſaid flat and plain, that ſhe ſaw thro' their Knav'ry,
And rather would ſpend her whole Life-time in slav'ry,
Than bring ſuch Diſgrace on the North Country.

going one Day to the Wood with young Roger,
To gather ſweet Poſies for he, and for ſhe,
Cupid obſerv'd them, a comical Codger,
And laid himſelf under a Sycamore Tree,
Out he drew, from his Quiver,
A Shaft that a Heart made of Marble would ſhiver,
He Shot—there was none a poor Maid to deliver,
And wounded this Laſs of the North Country.

Young Roger determin'd his Mind to diſcover,
Saluted fair Gillian ſo Charming and free,
Thea begg'd her Conſent in the Strain of a Lover,
In chaſte Wedlock Bands, his Bride for to be,
She agreed—Vows were plighted.
And they with each other, were ſo well delighted
That Hymen and Cupid, their Hearts both united,
And bleſt the ſweet Laſs of the North Country.