Crums of Comfort FOR THE YOUNGEST SISTER
The youngest Sister in despair,
At last did comfort find,
Which banisht all her grief and care,
And eas'd her troubled mind,
A kind young man did promise her
That she should married be,
She answered him again, Kind Sir,
Thereto I'm wondrous free.
To a pleasant new West country Tune.
I Have a good old Father at home,
an ancient man is he,
But he has a mind, that e're he dies,
That I should marry'd be.
And since I heard of thy complaint,
methoughts I pitty'd thée,
To me thou seemest like a Saint,
And thou shalt marryed be.
The Roses and the Lillies fair
cannot compare to thee,
Then mine own Dear do not despair,
for thou shalt married be
I have been curious in mine eye,
yet ne'r could any see,
That so much pleas'd my fantasie,
And thou shalt married be.
All night between my loving Arms,
thou shalt have embraces free,
And ile secure thee from all harms
When thou shalt married be.
And wouldst thou have a pretty Babe
ile quickly get it thee,
Thy credit and my own to save,
When we two married be.
A Thousand joys ile promise more
and all the world shall see,
That none like thee I will adore,
And thou shalt married be.
What though thy Sister is bestow'd,
let not that trouble thee,
On her young men some years have blowd
Thou young shalt married be.
Thou hast no wrinckles in thy face
and so i'm sure has she,
'Twill be an honour, no disgrace,
That thou shouldst married be.
And tell me now canst thou deny
so kind a friend as me,
That saith thou shalt no Maiden die,
But thou shalt married be.
If I walk through the Vniverse
I can no fairee see,
But every where I will reherse
That we will married be.
Ile Crown thee with the joys of love,
some Mortals ne'r did see,
And some shall wish that live above,
Like us to married be.
Can
Hymen any joys provide,
my Dear for thee or me,
Out of his thoughts they cannot slide,
But thou shalt married be.
No, no, torment thy self no more,
nor fear loves cruelty,
Thou art the girl that I adore,
And thou shalt married be,
Give me thy hand, take here my heart,
and be from sorrow free,
I know the worth of thy desert,
And thou shalt married be.
'Twill be one day a blessed time
and we from cares be free,
When thou art married in thy prime
That I may happy be.
Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden in Ball West-Smithfield.