A New SONG of Moggie's Jealousie: OR, Jockies Vindication
Moggy
from Jockey
she needs wou'd depart,
Though Jockey
he lov'd his Moggy
at heart,
Jockey
he wondred at Moggies
strange huff,
But Moggy
was jealous, and that was enough.
Tune of, You
London Lads be merry;
Or, Woo't thou be wilfull still my
Joe
THere was an a bonny young Lad;
was keeping of bonny win Sheep;
There was an a bonny young Lass,
was a wading the waters so deep:
Was a wading the waters so deep,
and a little above her knee;
And still she cry'd bonny Lad;
wilt thou come and Mow with me:
Where art thou ganging my
moggy?
and where art thou ganging my Dove
And woo't thou go from thy poor
jockey,
and so dearly that he does love?
Iseganging to fait
Edenborough,
to spit for a Lad that is true;
And if
I return not to morrow,
then
Jockey Ise bid thee adien.
How thinkst thou that
I can endure,
to part with thee all along night?
When
I am not able, thou art sure,
to have thee once out of my sight:
'Tis a folly my
Jockey to flatter,
for
I must gang where
I did tell,
Or offer to mince up the matter,
so
Jockey Ise bid thee farewel.
BUt shall
I gang with thee my fair one,
and shall
I gang with thee my
Joe?
And shall it be welcome my dear one,
togang with my
moggy, or no?
We'l hand in hand trip to the house,
that stands within ken of the Town:
And there
I will have a carrouse,
and for ever take leave of my loon.
But what have
I done my
moggy,
that thou art so willing to part
With poor unfortunate
jockey,
and break his too loving heart.
He warrant his heart for a Plack,
ye'as mere a Mon then to rue,
For a thing that ye cannot lack,
and so
Jockey Ise bid thee adieu.
Then must we part, my jewel,
and
I never see thee no mere?
And canst thou be so cruel,
to eyn that loves thee so dear?
d
[...]n have
I not lov'd thee as muckle,
and have I not shown it as true?
But
I scorn to another to truckle,
so
Jockey Ise bid thee adieu.
Now Heaven preserve my good woman,
Ods Bread she's jealous
I trow;
My
moggy these tyers are not common;
thy heart has had muckle to do:
'Tis onely a love-sick mistake;
that ever can make me untrue;
But the Parson amends he shall make,
if you never will bid me adieu.
How willingly I do believe thee,
and tye thee once more to my heart
[...]
But if thou again does deceive me,
for ever, for ever we'l part:
But Ise am in hopes that my
Jockey,
will never more prove so untrue,
But ever be kind to his
moggy,
nor Ise never bid him adieu.
FINIS.
Printed for J. Deacon, at the Angel in Guiltspur-street.