Lady's Lamentation for the Loss of her Sweetheart- broadside (Manch) c.1775, Roud 60
[From the Manchester Central library; BR f 821.04 Bal. Vol.5, p309, c.1775. The first four stanzas give the earliest extant version of Brisk Young Lover. Stanzas 5-12 are "The Constant Lady and False Hearted Squire," a parallel broadside dated c. 1686. A number of traditional versions follow this pattern: brisk Young Lover/Alehouse followed by stanzas from Constant Lady (See, for example, English versions titled "On Yonder Hill"). See also Brisk Young Lover in another 1700s broadside, "A New Song Call'd the Distress'd Maid," London, (no imprint) in the Madden Collection Cambridge University Library (Slip Songs H-N no. 1337) c.1785.
R. Matteson 2016, 2017]
The Lady's Lamentation for the Loss of her Sweetheart- broadside from Manchester Central library; BR f 821.04 Bal. Vol.5, p309, c.1775; mixed with Constant Lady c. 1686 after stanza 4.
1. A brisk young lad came courting me,
He stole away my liberty;
He stole my heart with a free good will,
He has it now, and he'll keep it still.
2. But when my belly it was low,
He followed me thro' frost and snow;
But now my apron's up to my chin
My love passes by and says nothing.
3. There is a ale-house in yonder town
Where oft my love sits him down.
He takes a stranger to his knee.
Which makes me sigh in misery.
4. He takes a stranger, I know for why,
Because she hath more gold than I;
Her gold will waste, and her beauty blast,
And she will become like me at last.
5. In Woodstock town in Oxfordshire [1]
As I went forth to take the air,
To view the fields and meadows 'round,
I though I heard a doleful sound.
6. Down by a crystal river side,
A gallant bower I espy'd,
And there was in it all alone
A fair Lady making great moan.
7. "Alas!" said she, my Love's unkind,
My sighs and tears he will not mind;
He is so cruel unto me,
Which causes all my misery.
8. "My Father is a worthy Knight,
My Mother is a lady bright;
And I a child and only heir,
And love has brought me to despair.
9. There is a flower as I've heard say,
I wish I could that flower find,
It would ease my heart,
And cure my mind.
10. Then round the meadows she did run,
And gather'd flowers as they sprung;
Of every sort she gathered some,
Till she got her apron full.
11. But when I found her corpse was cold,
They went to her false love, and told
What to this fair maid's chance befel,
I'm glad," said he, that she's so well.
12. What did she think I so fond could be,
That I could fancy none but she;
Man was not made for one alone,
I took delight to hear her moan.
1. from Oxfordshire Tragedy from stanza 5 on.