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 So the lord had a nurſery made for the babes; And has put the horns in his pocket, 'tis ſaid,

the ſquire ſent for the babes fathers ſtraitway; It’s very well done my boys he did ſay; And for his recompence it ſhall be paid: I ſee that you are all maſters of your trade.

the Betray'd Lover.

OW happy were my days till now? I ne’er did ſorrow feel; I roſe with joy to milk my cow; or take my ſpinning wheel.

My heart was lighter than a fly; like any bird I ſung, till he pretended love, and I believ’d his flatt’ring tongue.

Oh! the fool the ſilly ſilly fool; who truſts what man may be! I wish I was a maid again; and in my own country.