The Sorrowfull Damsels Lamentation For Want of a Husband.

This Maiden sure was in a Longing Temper,
And Young men they are to blame that would venture,
It is pity any Damsel she
Should Want the help of a Young man's Company.
This Maidens Fortune proves so very Hard,
That never a Young does her no more Regard
But Young men hereafter be sure to have Care,
They do not bring Young Maidens to Despair.
To the Tune of, The Country Farmer.
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I am a poor maiden lives in great distress,
I am sorely tormented now I do conses
To see so many are marryed and I lye a lone
That I have so long tary [...]d and still can get none
I am ready to fret my self out of my wit
To see many have Husbands, and I a maid yet,
Which makes me to feet & to grieve and to make moan
To see so many get Husbands and I can get none.
I shall be undone if some course be not tane
I am so much troubled with lying alone
To lye in my Bed and to toss as I do
It will kill any maiden the truth it is so,
I tumble, I pull and I hall and I tear,
When I think of a Husband but I am never the near
Which makes me to fret and to grieve & to make moan
To see so, &c.
When I see a young woman to give a young child the Breast
I am mightily vexed and sorely opprest
Because I can't have the Comfort of a man
I am ready to go mad let me do what I can
My maiden head louds me so sore I do say,
I am in great danger I shall go astray
Which makes me to fret and grieve and to make moan
To see so, &c.
When I am a making the Beds oh then I do swear
I could wish that some prity Young man I had there
That would humour my Fancy to give me Content
That I might be marry'd I am so fully bent
For never poor maiden had more need of a Cure
To lye with a Husband oh that would be pure
But still I do fret to grieve and make moan
To see so many get Husbands and I can get none.
There is now little pitty in Youngmen I find
That a maiden should prove them to be so unkind
To see other maidens that now are Wed
What Comfort they have when with Husbands they're Sped
While I do lye knawing the sheets all the night
To think of the Comfort, I'de have if I might
Which makes me to fret to grieve and make moan
To see so many get Husbands and I can get none.
Of all maidens in London my Luck is the Worst
That I cannot get marry'd, fore I am Crost
And so many Young men that in London there be
And never a One do except now of me
I think I was born in the Arse of the Moon
That never a One will take me in my Bloom
Which makes me to fret and to Cry I'm undone
To see so, &c.
My Longing will kill me I greatly do fear
If I be not marry'd before the next year
Therefore if some Young man will take pitty on me
And to ease all my Grief and my great misery,
Then I should be eas'd and clear out of Sorrow
Tho' to have a Husband of my own that I need not to bor­row
But yet I do fret and grieve and make moan
To see so, &c.
There was never no maiden so sorely opprest
For want of a Husband I take little Rest
And yet there is no Young man that comes on this way
That I can have his favour with me for to stay
I fear Ile be glad for to mourn all my Life,
Neither Rich man nor Poor man will make his Wife
Which makes me to fret and grieve and make moan
To see so, &c.
And now I have told the best part of my mind
I shall dye a Maiden Young men are so unkind
It do's Kill my heart that 'its Ready to brake
When I see so many Young men to walk in the streets
And never a One will take me to be Marry'd
That I fear all the days of my Life I must tarry
I have the worst luck now to lye all alone
To see so many get Husbands and I can get none.

Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden Ball in Pye-corner.

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