The jolly beggar/The weaver's daughter

The Weaver's Daughter.

It was in the charming fine summer weather,
⁠When Flora yields a fine fragrant scent,
A brisk young Squire with his hat and feather
⁠Into the town of Norris went:
And there he tarried—much gold he carried;
⁠He spied a damsel beautiful and fair,
This maid he fancied, her name was Nancy,
⁠A weaver s daughter that lived ther

He fixed his ogling eyes upon her,
⁠With every motion for to enjoy ;
He often crav'd her of her honour,
⁠But modest Nancy was something coy.
He often courted and likewise sported,
⁠And in his arms did her enfold:
He said my dear Nancy if you please my fancy,
⁠I will give you a chain of gold.

I would not blemish your reputation.
⁠For all the favours you could bestow:
I mean to live in an honest station,
⁠No man alive shall serve me so.
Keep your laces—your kind embraces,
⁠Such silly trifles wont my fancy move;
Til death I ll tarry unless I marry
⁠No man alive shall my ruin prove.

Although that I am but a weavers daughter,
⁠I think as much of myself she cried,
As those who make it their whole endeavour
⁠To kiss for gold and in coaches ride;
Their cheeks are painted their bodies tainted,
⁠Prove the bad effects of their wanton love;
But until death I'll tarry-unless that I marry,
⁠There are none on earth my ruin shall prove.

This London youth he stood amazed,
⁠And for a season nothing said;
All on her amorous beauty gazed;
⁠At length to her these words he said
I was in France—ay and in Flanders,
⁠And all around this fine Irish shore;
I met with ladies and great commanders;
⁠But a match for Nancy I ne'er saw before.

Her friends and neighbours were all acquainted
⁠Of this great match that was in hands:
The wedding day it was appointed,
⁠He crown'd his love with house and lands.
Mirth and weavers, pipes and tabours,
⁠Great joy he had for to crown his love,
That day they wedded—and at night they bedded,
⁠And a loving couple they did prove.