THE Young-Womans Answer TO Her Former Sweet-Heart On board one of His Majesty's Ships, who com­plains of her Ʋnkindness.

Tune of, I lov'd you dearly, &c.
IN e'ery street I hear 'em sing
My Love's Complaint, who serv'd the King:
I went with him to the Boy it'h' Nore,
And could a gone all the World o're.
He says my Love appeared true,
I do declare it was to too;
And let his love be ne're so great,
Mine was as much, tho' unfortunate,
A Golden Chain I had of him,
Which I will freely return again;
As for my sighing when we did part,
'Twas from the bottom of my heart.
Then both of us did straight agree,
At his return Married to be;
As for his letters he sent to Town,
I do declare I ne're had one.
But now I find it (tho' too late)
My love complains of his hard Fate;
But 'tis my Father's Fault indeed.
He often said that you were Dead.
Those letters that you sent to me,
My Father would not let me see;
But always said: Child be at rest,
For thy Sweet-heart was slain at Brest.
Then he perswaded me to wed
To a rich old Man that's almost dead:
It's true I'm Married, and am a wife,
I wish I'd liv'd single all my life.
I always lov'd a Seaman brave,
And once I was in hopes to have
Him which I now ne're expect to see;
You Maidens all then pity me.
While we are young and once in love,
It looks like blessings from above;
Yet our Friends oftentimes will make
Us break those Vows for Riches sake.
And as for Gold and Silver too,
I freely curse it as well as you;
For if that had not caus'd this strife,
Then you and I had been Man and Wife.
Altho' we both are crost in love,
Your Resolution I'd have ye move;
Since now you see the fault's not mine,
Think not so hard on woman-kind.
Where one VVoman is false in love;
A hundred Men they false do prove;
Tho' I lay not this charge to you,
Nor I hope you don't think me untrue.
Return, return, I beg my Dear,
For here are thousand VVomen here,
That are more Beautiful than I,
Therefore ne're go where Bullets fly.
'Twould be the comfort of my life.
To see you have a happy VVife,
Tho' I am crost, 'twill ease my pain,
To see you once return'd again.

Printed for Charles Barnet.

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