( 3 )
There is some of your friends,
They think I have no means,
They hate me because I am poor,
If I had great store of coin,
All your friends would me join,
They would make up all matters therefore.
Like David and his Clan,
Banish'd from his native land,
Like Lazarus I am hated too,
Which causes me to weep,
Every night when I should sleep;
my darling still thinking on you
THE MAID'S COMPLAINT FOR JOCKEY.
LOVE did first my thoughts employ,
returning day still made me blest,
⟨Which⟩ happy hour came wing'd with joy,
each night was crown'd with balmy rest.
⟨But⟩ now, alas! no longer gay,
I rise to bail the chearful light,
⟨Sit⟩ and sigh the live long day
and pass in tears the sleepless night.
⟨Home⟩, lovely Jockey, hither haste,
sure thou hast long perceiv'd my mind,
⟨Hear⟩ my words I vainly waste
for thou art cruel and unkind;
⟨For⟩ if some maid of happier fate
more favour'd lives, more lov'd than I,
⟨Ah!⟩ free me from this anxious state,
pronounce my fate and let me die.
