Child's, The English And Scottish Ballads

Volume 4 of 8 from 1860 edition -online book

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If thoult be silent, I'll be glad,
Thy mourning makes my heart full sad.
Balow, my boy, thy mother's joy,                   c
Thy father bred me great annoy.
Balow, my boy, ly still and sleep, It grieves me sore to hear thee weep.
Balow, my darling, sleep a while,
And when thou wak'st, then sweetly smile; 10
But smile not as thy father did,
To cozen maids, nay, God forbid;
For in thine eye his look I see,
The tempting look that ruin'd me,
Balow, my boy, fyc.                                  is
When he began to court my love, And with his sugar'd words to move, His tempting face, and flatt'ring chear In time to me did not appear; But now I see that cruel he                            ao
Cares neither for his babe nor me. Balow, my boy, fyc.
Fareweel, fareweel, thou falsest youth That ever kist a woman's mouth ; Let never any after me                                   a
Submit unto thy courtesy ! For, if they do, 0! cruel thou Wilt her abuse, and care not how. Balow, my boy, fyc.