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XLII. Hockey and Jenny: Or, The

Yielding Maid.

Set by Mr. Daniel Purcel.


WAS in the Month of May, Fo.

When Focky first I spy'd,
He look'd as fair as Day too,

Gud gin I'd bin his Bride :
With Cole black Eyne, and Milk white Hand,

Ise ne'er yet faw the like,
I wish I had gin aw my Land,

Ise ne'er had seen the Dike.

He fix'd his Eyne upon me,

With aw the Signs of Love,
Ise thought they would gang thro' me,

So fiercely they did move.
He tuke me in his eager Arms,

Ise made but faint Denials,
Ife then, alas, found aw his Charms,

Woe worth such fatal Tryals.

The bonny Lad at last 70,

Was forc'd tell gang away, But Ise had cane stuck fast tho',

Full nine Months from that Day. And now poor Fenny's Maidenhead,

Shame on't, they find is lost, The little Brat has aw betray'd,

Was ever Lass thus cross'd.


The Second PART.

One Day young Jenny, with her Son,

She to the Fieds did go,
Unto some pleasant Valley, where

Sweet smelling Flow'rs did grow :
She sat her self down on the Ground,

With Tears under a Tree, Crying Fockey has me betray'd,

And will not marry me.

Now Fockey was a Miller's Son,

Of Edinborough Town,
And as the fate lamenting there,

With Tears upon the Ground :
She see Fockey upon a Horse,

Come riding on the Way,
And on his Flute, this muckle Lad,

Melodioully did play.
So soon as the beheld his Face,

She straitway did arise,
To go and meet this bonny Lad;

The Tears stood in her Eyes ;
But when she came to him, she cry'd,

You've got my Maiden-head,
This Brat has brought my Shame to light,

When will you with me wed.
With that Fockey he did alight,

And with a sweet Embrace,
He said to her, My dearest Dear,

To Morrow in this Place,
If you'll be sure to meet me here,

We to the Kirk will hie,
And there, my Dear, the Marriage-Knot,

In Love we then will tye.


Then with a Kiss they both did part,

And met again next Day,
They were both marry'd after that,

And Home they went their way,
Unto a House, whereas that Day

In Joy and Mirth was spent, Thus Fenny she was made a Wife,

Unto her Heart's content.

XLIII. Hockey's


XLIII. Jockey's Courtship.

A Scotch Song by a Person of Quality.


"Ho' Fockey su'd me long, he met Disdain,

His tender Sighs and Tears were spent in vain,
Give o'er, said I, give o'er,
Your silly fond Amour,

I'll ne'er, ne'er, ne'er, ne'er more comply;
At last he forc'd a Kiss,
Which I took not amiss,
And since I've known the Bliss,

I'll ne'er deny.

My Fockey he had sike a Man-like Face,
And often did appear to me with muckle Grace,

Tho' I cry'd Fockey, fie,
Your Suit I must deny,

I'll ne'er, ne'er, ne'er, ne'er yield not I.
With that he was amaz'd,
He kiss'd my Hand and gaz'd,
Which so my Passion rais'd,

I did comply.
When Fockey saw me yield, he me embrac'd,
And clasp'd his folded Arms about my Waste,

My dear, said he, to you,
I'll ever be true,

And ne'er, ne'er, ne'er, ne'er you deceive,
But will for ever love you,
And prize none above you,
From you I'll ne'er remove
You may believe.


Then when you court a Lass that's coy,
Who hears your Love, yet seems to shun its Joy,

If you press her to do so,
Ne'er mind her, no, no, no,

But trust her Eyes :
For Coyness gives denyal,
When she wishes for the Tryal,
Tho' she swears you shan't come nigh all,

I am sure she lies.


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