The Scotch Lover's Lamentation: OR, GILDEROY's Last FAEWE.
To an excellent new Tune, much in request.
Licensed according to Order.
GIlderoy was a bonny Boy,
had roses tull his shun,
His Stockings made of the finest silk,
his Garters ha
[...]ging down:
It was a comely sight to see,
he were so trim a Boy;
He was my J
[...]y and Heart's Delight,
my handsom Gilderoy.
Oh, sike a charming Eyen he had,
a breath as I
[...]ve t
[...]as Rose,
He never wore a Highland plad,
but costly silken Cloaths:
He gain'd the love of Ladies gay,
there's none to him was coy;
Ah way's me, Ise mourn this Day
for my dear Gilderoy.
My
Gilderoy and I was born
both in one Town together,
Not passing seven Years ago,
since one did love each other:
Our Daddies and our Mammies both,
were cloath'd with mic
[...]le joy,
To think upon the Bridal-day,
betwixt I and my Gilderoy.
For
Gilderoy, that Love of mine,
gued faith Ise freely bought
A weddin
[...]
[...]ark of Holland fine,
with silken flowers wrought;
And he gave me a wedding-ring,
which I receiv'd with joy;
No Lads or Lasse e're could sing,
like my sweet Gilderoy.
In mickle joy we spent our time,
till we was both fifteen,
Then gently he did lay me down,
amongst the leaves so green;
When he had done what he could do,
he rose and gang'd his way,
B
[...]t ever since I lov'd the Man,
my bandsom Gilderoy
While we did both together play,
he kiss'd me o're and o're;
Gued fairh it was as blith a day,
as e're I saw before;
He fill'd my heart in e'ry vein,
with love and mickle joy;
But when shall I behold again,
mine own sweet Gilderoy?
'Tis pity Men should e're be hang'd,
that takes up Women's geer,
Or for their pelfering sheep or calves,
or stealing cow or mare;
Had not our laws been made so strict,
I'd never lost my Joy,
Who was my Love and Heart's Delight,
my handsom Gilderoy.
'Cause
Gilderoy had done amiss,
must he be punish'd then?
What kind of cruelty is this,
to hang such handsom Men?
The Flower of the Scotish Land,
a sweet and lively Boy,
He likewise had a Lady's hand.
my handsom Gilderoy.
At
Leith they took my
Gilderoy,
and there, God wot, they bang'd him,
Carry'd him to fair
Edenburgh,
and there, God wot, they hang'd him,
They hang'd him up above the rest,
he was so trim a Boy,
My only Love and Heart's Delight,
my handsom Gilderoy.
Thus having yielded up his breath,
in cyprus he was laid,
Then for my Dearest, after death,
a funeral I made,
Over his grave a marble stone,
I fixed for my Joy,
Now I am left to weep alone,
for my dear Gilderoy.
LONDON: Printed for C. Bates, at the Sun and Bible in Pye-corner.