Farmer's son or, The unfortunate lovers/The farmer's son or, The unfortunate lovers

THE FARMER'S SON.

tune—the royal cottager.

YOUNG lovers all, I pray, draw near,
⁠Unto these lines which I have here,
How a young Lady was undone,
By loving of a Farmer's Son.

⁠She was of birth and high renown,
Her portion was six hundred pound;
But soon this Lady's heart was won,
When she first saw the Farmer's Son.

⁠She sent him letters ev'ry day,
Because he to her would nothing say,
Because he knew he was engag'd,
Unto her handsome chamber-maid.

His age it was just twenty-two,
As I the truth do tell to you;
He was well shap'd in ev'ry limb,
This Lady fell in love with him.

⁠As she was walking in the grove,
By chance she met her own true love,
To him she said, Upon my life,
I do design to be thy wife.

⁠O Lady fair, that cannot be,
For you to be a bride to me,
Because I'm going to be wed
To Sally, your own chamber-maid.

⁠She wrung her hands and tore her hair,
Crying, alas! I'm near despair!
How can you slight me? Sir, she said,
Still for a silly chamber-maid

⁠You know I have a good estate,
My father left to me of late,
And you the Lord of all shall be,
If you'll consent to marry me.

⁠He said, If I from her was free,
Then I would love you tenderly;
But I am bound to her by oath,
Therefore I cannot wed you both.

⁠O then, quoth she, If it be so,
I soon will work her overthrow;
For she my waiting-maid shall be,
And we shall cross the raging sea.

⁠For pretty Sally she did send,
And said on you I do depend;
That you my waiting-maid shall be,
And we'll pass to West-Florida.

⁠This Lady had contrived so,
And all to work her overthrow;
For as this maiden fell asleep,
So plung'd they her into the deep.

⁠Unto the shore she did return,
Her conscience did as fuel burn,
For she could never be at rest
Until she had the deed confess'd.

⁠Now she's confin'd unto a goal,
The Lord have mercy on her soul;
Crying, Alas! I am undone,
That ever I lov'd a Farmer’s Son.

⁠This young man was in great distress;
He tore his hair and smote his breast;
O then distracted he did run;
In Bedlam lies the Farmer's Son.

⁠Young lovers all of each degree,
That's standing by, come pity me;
And never do as ( have done,
I've ruin'd myself and Farmer's Son.

⁠And for the sake of cursed gold.
This maiden's precious blood was sold;
But now at last as we may see,
It prov'd the ruin of all the three