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Each morn they rise to work with joy,
And in the ev’ning kiss and toy,
They swear their love shall never cloy,
Whilst they do breath in air.
Blyth Jenny loves her Jockie gay,
And in her raptures oft doth say,
I bless the happy hour and day,
That I did wed and run away
With Jockie to the fair, the fair, &c.
THE TURKISH LADY.
To its own Proper Tune.
YOung virgins all I pray draw near,
A pretty story you shall hear,
Its of a Turkish Lady brave,
Who fell in love with an English slave.
A merchant ship in Bristo’ lay,
As we were failing o’er the sea,
By a Turkish Rover took were we,
And all of us made slaves to be.
They bound us down in irons strong,
They whipp’d and slash’d us all along,
No tongue can tell, I’m certain sure,
What we poor sailors do endure:
Come sit you down and listen a while,
And hear how fortune did on him smile,
It was his fortune for to be,
