Page:Battle of Sherriff-Muir (sic).pdf/7

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O mother, your counfel I sek, but yet I was never the near ; He won my heart with a falfe look, and hit word fo enchanted my ear, That your precepts I foon did forget, he on me and would have his fcope, It is but a folly to fret, ’tis done and for it there’s no help.

Then who is the father of it ? come tell me without more delay, For now I am juft in the fit, to go and hear what he will fay, It is Roger the damfel reply'd, he call’d me his dear pretty bird, And faid that I fhould be his bride, but he was net fo good as his word.

What! Roger that lives at the mill ? yes, verdy mother the fame, What ! Roger that lives at the mill ? I’ll hop to him though I am lame, Go fetch me my crutches with fpetd, and bring me my faectales too, A lecture to him I will read, fhall ring in his cars through and through.

With that fine went hopping away, and went to young Hodge of the mill, On whom fire her cruthes did lay, and cry’d you have ruin’d my girl, By getting her dear maidenhead, ’tis true, you can no ways deny;