Belfast maid's lamentation for the loss of her sweetheart/The Whistling Daughter

THE WHISTLING DAUGHTER.

O Mammy; mammy; I long to be a bride,
To have a luſty young man to ly by any ſide;
For it is well know, I am a woman grown,
And 'tis a pity one ſo pretty as I ſhould ly alone.

O daughter I was fifteen before that I was wed,
And I was ne'er tired of my ſweet maidenhead.
O mammy that may be, but 'tis not ſo with me,
I'm young and airy, almoſt weary, I can't ly alone.

O daughter, daughter, I'll pull your courage down,
And with hard labour pull off your ſack & gown,
And ſend you each day to the fields a making hay,
O daughter, loving daughter, then perhaps you may.

I pray don't ſend me to the fields, for young men
Are tempting, I perhaps may yield to the thing
I would not do, nor dare not for to name,
But tell me, loving mother, what can young men mean.

Whiſtle, daughter, whiſtle, & you ſhall have a ſheep,
I cannot whiſtle, mother, nor neither can I ſleep,
My maidenhead, I ſwear, it fills my heart with care,
'Tis a burden, heavy burden, more than I can bear.

Whiſtle, daughter, whiſtle, & you ſhall have a cow,
I cannot whiſtle, mother, neither will I now,
My maidenhead, I ſwear, it fills my heart with care,
'Tis a burden, heavy burden, more than I can bear.

Whiſtle, daughter, whiſtle, and you ſhall have a man,
Tol de rol dary, don't you hear I can,
Silence, huſſey, what makes you whiſtle now?
'Cauſe mam, I love a mam better than ſheep or cow.