[6]
But now they loath that honey-comb,
their ſtomachs are ſo low,
Whoſe ſermons fine did brightly ſhine
when my old hat was new.
Our young men and our maidens too,
they run off to the hills,
And when they do come home at night,
of others get their wills;
And when the laſſes aprons mount,
and belly it turns fu',
For ſuch a crime we thought great ſhame,
when my old hat was new.
The young men with their fair ſpeeches,
the laſſes they beguil’d,
They promis'd for to marry them,
and then get them with child:
But oft did not ſland to their word,
for ſome of them did rue,
And leave them with their apron up,
ſince my old hat was new.
When wives unto the weavers went,
for them to warp their yarn,
Their laps they were ſo ſtuffed up,
they held it in their arm,
But now their aprons hang ſtraight down,
which uſed to be fu',
Which made the clothe both thick & broad
when my old hat was new.
And when they for a tradeſman ſent,
