The merry Carelesse Lover: OR, A pleasant new Ditty, called, I love a Lasse since yesterday, And yet I cannot get her.
To the tune of, The Mother beguilde the Daughter.
OFt have I heard of many men,
which love have sore tormented,
With griefe of heart, and bitter smart,
and mindes much discontented.
Such love to me shall never be
distastefull, grievous bitter.
I have loved a Lasse since yesterday,
and yet I cannot get her.
But let her chuse, if she refuse,
and goe to take another:
I will not grieve, but still will be
the merry carelesse Lover.
I will no foolish Lover be,
to waste my meanes upon her:
But if she doe prove firme to me,
in heart I will her honour.
And if she scorne my part to take,
I know a way to fit her,
My heart with griefe shall never ake,
what man soever get her.
Then let her chuse, if she refuse,
and goe to take another, &c.
And yet I know not what to thinke,
she makes a shew she loves me,
What néed I feare from me she'l shrinke,
some foolish passion mooves me,
Sometimes to hope, sometimes to feare,
it hangs upon a Twitter,
Whether she hates or loves me deare,
to lose her, or to get her.
But let her chuse, if she refuse &c.
Some women they are in firme in love,
and some they are uncertaine,
Scarce one in twenty loyall prove,
yet if it were my fortune
To get this Lasse unto my wife,
I know not one more fitter,
In lawfull love to leade our lives,
i [...] 'twere my hap to get her.
But let her chuse, &c.
I am a man indifferent,
whether she will or will not
My Sweet-heart be for to love me,
if she do's not, it skills not.
If she fancy me, Ile constant be,
this Lasse she is a Knitter.
And I have her loved since yesterday,
but yet I cannot get her.
But let her chuse, if she refuse,
and goe to take another,
Ile never grieve, but still will be
the merry carelesse Lover.
The second part,
To the same tune.
THis Lasse she doth in Yorkeshire live,
there in a Towne call'd Forset,
Her minde to labour she doth give,
she can knit Silke or Worset.
I know not well what I should say,
in spéech she's sometimes bitter,
And I have her loved since yesterday,
and yet I cannot get he.
But let her chuse, if she refuse,
And goe to take another,
Ile never grieve, but still will be
the merry carelesse Lover.
Sometimes she will upon me smile,
and sometimes she is sullen,
As she doth sit, and Stockins knits,
of Iarsie and of Wollen,
She gets the praise above the rest,
to be a curious Knitter:
She loves me, as she doth professe,
and yet I cannot get her.
But let her chuse, &c.
Her Portion is not very much,
but for the same what care I,
So she with me will but kéepe touch,
and not in minde will vary,
For pelfe I doe not passe a straw,
her beauty likes me better,
For I have her loved since yesterday,
and yet I cannot get her.
But let her chuse, &c.
I will bethinke me what is best
a way for to be taken,
Her love to gaine, and her obtaine,
I would not be forsaken,
Nor would I have her say me nay,
nor give me speeches bitter,
For I have her loved since yesterday,
and yet I cannot get her.
But let her chuse, &c.
I have her Fathers frée consent,
that she with me should marry:
Her Mother likewise is content,
and grieves that she should carry
So proude a minde, or be unkinde
to me in speeches bitter,
For I beare to her a loving minde,
and yet I cannot get her.
But let her chuse, &c.
With her I at a Wedding was,
where we did dance together,
She is a curious handsome Lasse,
and yet like winde and weather,
Her minde doth change, she's kinde, she's strange,
milde, gentle, cruell, bitter,
Yet howsoere I love her deare,
and yet I cannot get her.
But let her chuse, &c.
Yet will I hope upon the best,
all foolish feares excluding,
And at her faithfull service rest,
thus here in briefe concluding,
With some deare friend to her Ile send,
a kind and loving letter,
And hope in time her love to gaine,
and for my Wife to get her.
And then Ile sing with merry cheere,
this Ditty and no other,
Whil'st breath doth last, and life be past,
I will be a faithfull Lover.
FINIS.
Printed at London for F. Coules.