to the tune Lilliburlero
(Pills to Purge Melancholy, v.4, 1707)

I a tender young Maid have been courted by many,
Of all sorts and Trades as ever as any:
A spruce Haberdasher first spake me fair,
But I would have nothing to do with small ware.

Refrain
My Thing is my Own, and I’ll keep it so still,
Yet other young lasses may do what they will,
My Thing is my Own, and I’ll keep it so still,
Yet other young lasses may do what they will.

A master of music came with intent
to give me a lesson on my instrument.
I thank’d him for nothing and bid him be gone
for my little fiddle must not be play’d on.

Refrain

A fine dapper Taylor, with a yard in his hand,
did profer his service to be at Command,
He talked of a slit I had above Knee,
But I’ll have no Taylors to stitch it for me.

Refrain

A cunning clockmaker did court me as well,
And promis’d me riches if I’d ring his bell.
I look’d at his clockwork and said with a shock:
Your pendulum’s far too small for my clock.

Refrain

An usurer came with abundance of Cash,
But I had no mind to come under his Lash,
He profer’d me jewels, and a great store of Gold,
But I would not Mortgage my little Freehold.

Refrain

Now here I could reckon a hundred and more,
Besides all the Gamesters recited before,
That made their addresses in hopes of a snap,
But as young as I was I understood Trap.

Refrain

My Thing is My Own and I’ll keep it so still,
Yet other young lasses may do what they will,
My Thing is My Own and I’ll keep it so still,
Until I be Marry’d, say men what they will.

Henry Purcell (1659-1695)
Z.430

When first Amintas sued for a kiss,
My innocent heart was tender,
That though I push'd him away from the bliss,
My eyes declar'd my heart was won.

I fain an artful coyness would use,
Before I the fort did surrender,
But love would suffer no more such abuse,
And soon, alas! my cheat was known.

He'd sit all day, and laugh and play,
A thousand pretty things would say,
My hand he squeeze and press my knees,
Till further on he got by degrees.

My heart, just like a vessel at sea,
Would toss when Amintas came near me,
But ah! so cunning a pilot was he,
Through doubts and fears he'd still sail on.

I thought in him no danger could be,
So wisely he knew how to steer me.
But soon, alas! was brought to agree
to taste of joys before unknown.

Well might he boast his pain not lost,
For soon he found the golden coast,
Enjoy'd the ore, and touch'd the shore, 
where never merchant went before.

Henry Purcell (1659-1695)

'Tis men that make us love.
'Tis love that makes us sad.
'Tis sadness makes us drink.
And drinking makes us mad.

Poem by Robert Burns (1759-1796)
SMM #179

Musing on the roaring Ocean,
Which divides my love and me,
Wearying Heav'n in warm devotion,
For his weal where'er he be.

Hope and Fears alternate billow
Yielding late to Nature's law.
Whisp'ring Spirits round my pillow
Talk of him that's far awa.

Ye whom Sorrow never wounded,
Ye who never shed a tear,
Care untroubled, joy surrounded,
Gaudy Day to you is dear.

Gentle Night, do thou befriend me;
Downy Sleep, the curtain draw:
Spirits kind, again attend me,
Talk of him that's far awa.

Jacob Arcadelt, c. 1500-1568

Refrain
Margot labourez les vignes,
Vignes, vignes, vignolet,
Margot labourez les vignes bientôt.

En revenant de Lorraine, Margot,
Rencontrai trois capitaines, Margot,
Vignes, vignes, vignolet,
Margot labourez les vignes bientôt

Refrain

Ils mont saluee vilaine, Margot, 
Je suis leurs fievres quartaines, 
Vignes, vignes, vignolet,
Margot labourez les vignes bientôt.

Refrain

Je ne suis pas si vilaine, Margot,
Puis que le fils du romaine,
Vignes, vignes, vignolet,
Margot labourez les vignes bientôt.

Refrain

Translation:
Margot, go till the vineyards,
Margot, go immediately and till the vineyards!
Coming back from Lorraine,
I met three captains.
Margot, go till the vineyards…

They told me I was ugly,
That I was a very plague to them.
Margot, go till the vineyards…

I’m not so ugly, the king’s son loves me!
Margot, go till the vineyards…

D’Urfey’s Pills to Purge Melancholy, v.4 (1719)

Altho' I am but a Country Lass,
A lofty mind a bear a;
I think myself as good as those,
That Gay Apparel wear a:
What tho' my Coat be Homepsun Gray,
My Skin it is as soft a
As those that in their Cypress Veils
Do carry their Heads aloft a.

What tho' I keep my Father's Sheep,
'Tis a thing that must be done a;
A Garland of the choicest Flow'rs
Shall shade me from the Sun a:
And where I see the feeding Bee,
When Grass and Flowers spring a,
Hard by a Chrystal Fountain Stream,
I sit me down and Sing a.

My Leather Bottle stuff't with Sage,
My Drink it is but thin a,
No Wine hath taught my brains to rage,
Nor tempt my Blood to sin a;
My Country Curds, my Wooden Spoon,
My things are very fine a,
And on some Flow'ry Bank at Noon,
I sit me down and a Dine a.

What tho' my Portion will allow
No bags of shining Gold a,
As Farmers Daughters nowadays,
Like Swine are bought and sold a;
I'll keep my naked Body sound,
And an Honest Soul within a,
And for a Hundred Thousand Pounds,
I value it not a pin a.

I have no Jewels in my Ears,
Nor Jems to deck my Neck a;
Nor Glit'ring Rings with Stones I wear,
My Fingers for to deck a,
But for the Man whene'er it chance,
That I shall Grace to Wed a,
I'll keep a Jewel worth them all,
I mean my Maiden-Head a.

D’Urfey’s Pills to Purge Melancholy (1719)

All in a misty Morning, when cloudy was the Weather,
I was meeting with an old Man, clothed all in Leather,
With ne'er a Shirt unto his Back, but Wool unto his Skin,
With how do you do and how do you do and how do you do again?

The Rustick was a Thresher, and on his way he hy'd, 
And with a Leather Bottle, fast Buckl'd by his side:
And with a Cap of Woolen, which cover'd Cheek and Chin,
With how do you do and how do you do and how do you do again?

I went a little further and there i met a Maid,
Was going then a Milking, a Milking, Sir, she said;
Then i began to Compliment and she began to Sing;
With how do you do and how do you do and how do you do again?

This Maid her Name was Dolly, cloath'd in a Gown of Gray,
I being somewhat Jolly, perswaded her to stay:
Then strait i fell to Courting her, in hopes her Love to win,
With how do you do and how do you do and how do you do again?

Then having Time and Leisure, I spent a vacant Hour, 
Telling her of all my Treasure, while sitting in the Bow'r;
With many kind Embraces, i stroak'd her double Chin;
With how do you do and how do you do and how do you do again?

I told her i would Marry'd be and she should be my Bride,
And long we should not tarry, with twenty things beside;
I'll Plow and Sow and Reap and Mow, whilst thou shalt sit and Spin;
With how do you do and how do you do and how do you do again?

Her Parents being willing all Parties soon agreed:
Her portion thirty Shilling, they Marry'd her with speed;
Then Will the Piper he did play, while others Dance and Sing,
With how do you do and how do you do and how do you do again?

In pleasant Recreation, they passed away the Night,
And likewise by relation, with her he takes delight,
To walk abroad on Holy-days, to visit Kiff and Kin:
With how do you do and how do you do and how do you do again?

Poem by Robert Burns (1759-1796)
Tune: Mo Run an diu mar an de u [My Love to day as heretofore]

Anon.,
The Airs and Melodies Peculiar to the Highlands of Scotland and The Isles, ed. Captain S. Fraiser, 1816.
arr. Danny Johnson

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever; 
Ae fareweel, alas, forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee!

Who shall say that Fortune grieves him
While the star of hope she leaves him?
Me, nae cheerfu' twinkle lights me,
Dark despair around beknights me.

I'll ne'er blame my partial fancy;
Nae-thing could resist my Nancy;
For to see her was to love her,
Love but her, and love forever.

Had we never lov'd sae kindly, 
Had we never lov'd sae blindly,
Never met, or never parted,
We had ne'er been broken-hearted.

Fare thee weel, thou first and fairest!
Fare thee weel, thou best and dearest!
Thine be ilka joy and treasure,
Peace, enjoyment, love, and pleasure!

Ae fond kiss, and then we sever;
Ae fareweel, alas, forever!
Deep in heart-wrung tears I'll pledge thee,
Warring sighs and groans I'll wage thee!

Broadside. c.1589
Huth Collection?

There was a Maid this other day and she would needs go forth to play;
And as she walk'd, she sighed and said, "I am afraid to die a maid."
When that be heard a lad, what talk the maiden had,
Whereof he was full glad and did not spare
To say, "Fair Maid, I pray, whither you go to play?"
"Good sir," then she did say, "What do you care?"
"For I will, without fail, Maiden, give to you Watkins Ale."
"Watkins Ale, sir," quoth she, "What is that, I pray you tell me."

'Tis sweeter far than sugar fine and pleasanter than Muscadine.
And if you please fair Maid to stay a little while to sport and play,
I will give you the same, Watkins Ale call'd by name,
Or else were i to blame, in truth fair Maid.
"Good sir," quoth she again, "If you will take the pain,
I shall it not refrain, nor be dismay'd."
He took this maiden then aside and led her where she was not spied,
And told her many a pretty tale, and gave her well of Watkins Ale.

When he had done to her his will, They talk'd but what it shall not skill,
At last she said, "Saving your tale, Give me some more of Watkins Ale,
Or else I will not stay, for I must needs away,
My mother bade me play, The time is past.
Therefore, good sir," quoth she, "if you have done with me."
"Nay soft, fair maid," quoth he again at last.
"Let us talk a little while."  With that the maiden began to smile,
And said, "Good sir, full well I know,
Your ale I see runs very low."

"Good sir," quoth she, in smiling sort, "What do you call this pretty sport?"
Or what is this you do to me?" "Tis called Watkins Ale." quoth he.
"Wherein, fair maid, you may, report another day,
When you go forth to play, how you did speed."
"Indeed, good sir," quoth she, "it is a pretty glee,
And well it pleaseth me, no doubt indeed."
Thus they sported and they play'd, this young man and this pretty maid,
Under a banke whereas they lay, Not long ago this other day.

This young man then, being so blam'd, Did blush as one being asham'd.
He took her by the middle small, And gave her more of Watkins Ale,
And said, "Fair maid, I pray, when you go forth to play,
Remember what I say, walk not alone."  
"Nay soft," said she again, "I thank you for your pain,
For fear of further stain, I must be gone."
"Farewell maiden," then quoth he;  "Adieu good sir," again quoth she.
Thus they parted then at last, Till thrice three months were gone and pass'd.

This maiden then fell very sick, Her maiden-head began to kick.  
Her color waxed wan and pale, With taking much of Watkins Ale.
I wish all maidens coy, that hear this pretty toy,
Wherein most women's joy, how they do sport.
For surely Watkins Ale and if it be not stale,
Will bring them to some bale, as hath report.
New ale will make their bellies bowne, As trial by this same has shown.
This proverb has been taught in schools, It is no jesting with edged tools.

Good maids and wives, I pardon crave, and lack not that which you would have.
To blush it is a woman's grace, And well-becometh a maiden's face.
For women will refuse the thing that they would choose,
So men should them excuse of thinking ill.
Cat will after kind, all winkers are not blind,
You maidens know my mind, say what you will.
When you drink ale, beware the toast, For therein lies the danger most.
If any here offended be, then blame the author, blame not me!

D’Urfey’s Pills to Purge Melancholy (1719)

A lusty young Smith at his Vice stood a filing.
Rub, rub, rub, in and out, in and out ho;
When to him a Buxom young Damsel came smiling,
And ask'd if to Work at her Forge he wou'd go:
With a Rub, rub, rub, in and out, in and out ho!

A match quoth the Smith, so away they went thither,
Rub, rub, rub, in and out, in and out ho;
They strip't to go to't, 'twas hot Work and how Weather,
She kindl'd a Fire, and soon made him blow;
With a Rub, rub, rub, in and out, in and out ho!

Her Husband she said could scarce raise up his Hammer,
His strength and his tools we worn out long ago;
If she got her Journeymen, could any blame her,
Look here, quoth our Workman, my Tools are not so:
With a Rub, rub, rub, in and out, in and out ho!

Red-hot grew his Iron as both did desire,
And he was too wise not to strike while t'was so;
Quoth she, what I get, I get out of the Fire,
Then prithee strike home and redouble the blow;
With a Rub, rub, rub, in and out, in and out ho!

Six times did his Iron by vigorous heating,
Grow soft in the Forget in a minute or so;
As often was harden'd, still beating and beating,
But the more it was soften'd it harden'd more slow;
With a Rub, rub, rub, in and out, in and out ho!

The Smith then would go, quoth the Dame full of sorrow,
Oh what would I give, could my Cuckold do so!
Good Lad with your Hammer come hither tomorrow,
But pray can't you use it once more e'er you go:
With a Rub, rub, rub, in and out, in and out ho!