The Happy Husbandman OR, Country Innocence.
To a pleasant New Court Tune.
This may be Printed,
R. P.
MY young
Mary do's mind the Dairy,
while I go a Howing, and Mowing each Morn;
Then hey the little Spinning Wheel▪
Merrily round do's Reel while I am singing amidst the Corn:
Cream and Kisses both are my Delight,
She gives me them, and the Ioys of Night;
She's soft as the Air,
As Morning fair,
Is not such a Maid a most pleasing sight?
While I whistle, she front the Thistle
does gather Down for to make us a Bed,
And then my little Love does lie
All the Night long, and dye
in the kind Arms of her
nown[?] dear
Ned,
There I taste of a delicate Spring,
But I must not tell you, nor name, the thing,
To put you, a Wishing,
And think of Kissing,
For Kisses cause sight and young Men
[...].
Sedge and Rushes, and tops of Bushes
shall thatch our Roof, and shall
strow[?] all our Floor,
And then the pritty Nightingales.
Will fly from Groves and Dales
to live with us, and we'll ne'er be Poor:
Little Lambkins, whenever they dye
Will bequeath new Blankets is thee and I,
Our Quilts, shall be, Roses
Which
June disposes:
So warm and so sweet my young Love shall be.
Fountains pure shall be thy Ewer
to sprinkle Water upon thy fair Face;
And near the little Flock shall play
All the long Summer's Day;
gentle white Lambs will adorn the Place.
Then at Night we'll hie home to our Hive,
And (like Bees) enjoy all the sweets, alive;
We'll tast all Love's Treasure,
And enjoy that Pleasure,
While others for Fame and for Greatness strive.
No Man's Frowns are on the Downs,
for truly there we most freely may sing,
And kiss the pretty
Nancies,
While Changes end Chances
amuse all the Great, and Disturbance bring.
We will with our young Lambs go to Bed,
And observe the Lives that our Fathers led;
We'll mind not Ambition,
Nor sow Sedition,
And leave State-Affairs to the State-man's Head.
Oaten Reeds (those humble Weeds)
shall be the Pipes upon which we will play,
And on the merry Mountain,
Or else by a Fountain,
we'll merrily pass the sweet time away:
Sure no Mortal can blame us for this.
And now mark the way of your
London Miss,
She masters your Breeches,
And takes your Riches,
While we have more Ioys by a harmless Kiss
No Youth here need Willow wear,
no beauteous Maid will her Lover destroy:
The gentle little Lass will yield
In the soft Dairy Field,
freely our Pleasures we here enjoy:
No great
Juno we boldly desse,
With young
Cloris Cheeks, or fair Celia's Eye;
We let all these things alone,
And enjoy our own,
Every Night with our Beauties lie,
Printed-for P. Brooksby at the Golden-Ball Pye-corner.