Ballads in Imitation of the Antient By W. H. Ireland |
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BALLAD.
The neglected Mither's doleful Lament to her Child, on its
Father's inconstancy, with the Answer of her Boy.
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 | Ballads in Imitation of the Antient |  |
167
BALLAD. The neglected Mither's doleful Lament to her Child, on its Father's inconstancy, with the Answer of her Boy.
Baby, baby, where's thy Fader,
Whither doth he ride?
Mither, Mither, on the white Horse,
By the clear brook's side;
Say, ah wherefore did he quit me?
Cauldly blows the wind.
Mither! Mither! he's hard-hearted,
Fickle and unkind.
Whither doth he ride?
Mither, Mither, on the white Horse,
By the clear brook's side;
Say, ah wherefore did he quit me?
Cauldly blows the wind.
Mither! Mither! he's hard-hearted,
Fickle and unkind.
168
Did he feel no soft compassion
For a breaking heart?
Mither, felt he aught of kindness,
Would he thus depart?
Yet with smiles by yon bright heav'n
Oftimes hath he sworn?
Mither mark how true his vows are
Now you're left forlorn.
For a breaking heart?
Mither, felt he aught of kindness,
Would he thus depart?
Yet with smiles by yon bright heav'n
Oftimes hath he sworn?
Mither mark how true his vows are
Now you're left forlorn.
Pure as drifted snow I thought him,
And believ'd each oath.
Mither now behold his fondness;
Where's his plighted troth.
Since he's gone ah what maun I do,
Never would he wed.
Mither, steel thine heart as he doth,
With another bed.
And believ'd each oath.
Mither now behold his fondness;
Where's his plighted troth.
Since he's gone ah what maun I do,
Never would he wed.
Mither, steel thine heart as he doth,
With another bed.
169
Baby, baby, what woudst thou think;
Where woudst thou abide?
Mither, Mither, I would sit me
Down by the Brook's side.
But when sad and sore a hunger'd
Who would guve thee cheer?
Mither I would live on sighing,
And drink down each tear.
Where woudst thou abide?
Mither, Mither, I would sit me
Down by the Brook's side.
But when sad and sore a hunger'd
Who would guve thee cheer?
Mither I would live on sighing,
And drink down each tear.
And couldst thou then bear to leave me,
I that gave thee breath?
Mither I for aye would shun thee,
As I'd fly grim death.
Say my bonny boy coud'st quit me,
And so flinty prove?
Mither an thou'dst leave thine infant
Where would be thy Luve?
I that gave thee breath?
Mither I for aye would shun thee,
As I'd fly grim death.
Say my bonny boy coud'st quit me,
And so flinty prove?
Mither an thou'dst leave thine infant
Where would be thy Luve?
170
Dearest, I will ne'er forsake thee,
Though thine fader's base,
Mither I for aye will luve thee
And thy sorrows chase.
Gang then youth so iron-hearted,
Gang from luve and me,
With my babe Ise grow forgetful,
Chasing luve and thee.
Though thine fader's base,
Mither I for aye will luve thee
And thy sorrows chase.
Gang then youth so iron-hearted,
Gang from luve and me,
With my babe Ise grow forgetful,
Chasing luve and thee.
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