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Which when her Uncle understood,
But as they did this great Hafte make,
And unto him she thus did say,
Soon were they at her Father's Door,
She knock'd, and strait a Man he cry'd, Who's there ? 'Tis I, she then reply'd ; Who wonder'd much her Voice to hear, And was possess'd with Dread and Fear.
Her Father he did tell, and then
Pray Sir, did you not send for me,
Where is he ? then to her he said,
He star'd about, and there could he
His Daughter he said nothing to,
Her Father to the Father went Of the Deceas'd, with full Intent To tell him what his Daughter said, So both came back unto this Maid.
They ask'd her, and she still did say,
A Handkerchief she said she ty'd
Affrighted, then they did behold
This thing unto her then they told,
Part not true Love, you rich Men then,
oft breeds their Lives decay.
XXXIX. The Scotch Lover's Lamen
tation : Or, Gilderoy's last Farewell.
There is nothing wanting to make this Volume
a perfect Medly, and to fit fome Ballad to the Taste of every Reader; but the adding of a few old Scotch Songs, and therefore I shall close my Colle&tion with 'em. The Hero of the following Ballad cannot be recorded very much to his Praise, for befides Robberies and common Murders, he is accus'd of Parricide and Incest
. It is Somewhere faid of him, that he set fire to his Mother's House, cut her Throat, ravish'd his Sisters, fled into France, pick'd Cardinal Richlieu's Pocket in the King's Presence, return'd to England, robbd 0. liver Cromwell, hang'd a Judge, and was at length taken and executed in Scotland, a little before the Restoration. As most Stories of this Nature are advancd without any good Foundation, but barely upon meer Report, I shall not enter into the Particulars of 'em, nor trouble my Readers with any more Introductions, tho' there be a Story belongiug to Bonny Dundee, for I very much question the Truth of it.
ILDERO Y was a bonny Boy,
Had Roses tull his Shoon,
His Garters hanging down:
He were so trim a Boy,
My handsome Gilderoy.
A Breath as sweet as Rose,
But costly filken Cloaths,
There's none to him was coy ;
For my dear Gilderoy.
Both in one Town together,
Since one did love each other; Our Daddies and our Mammies both
Were cloath'd with muckle Joy, To think upon the Bridal-Day,
'Twixt me and Gilderoy. For Gilderoy, that Love of mine,
Gued Faith Ise freely brought, A Wedding-sark of Holland fine,
With filken Flowers wrought,
Which I receiv'd with Joy,
Like me and Gilderoy.
Till we were both sixteen,