[Bagford Collection, I. 88.]

The Jovial Companions,

Dr, The

Three Merry Travellors,

Who paid their shot where ever they came without ever a stiver of Money.

Here was three Travellers, Travellers three,
with a hye down, ho down, Lanktre down derry,
And they wou'd go Travel the North Country,
without ever a stiver of Mony.

They Travelled East, and they travelled West,

with a hye down, ho down, Lanktre down derry,
Where ever they came still they drank of the best,
without ever a stiver of Mony.

At length by good Fortune they came to an Inn,
with a hye down, ho down, Lanktre down derry,
And they were as Merry as e're they had been,
without ever a stiver of Mony.

8

12

A Jolly young Widdow did smiling appear,
with a hye down, ho down, Lanktre down derry,
Who drest them a Banquet of delicate cheer,
Without ever a penny of Mony.

Both Chickens and sparrow grass she did provide,

with a hye down, ho down, Lanktre down derry, You'r Welcome kind Gentlemen, welcome (she cry'd) without ever a stiver of Mony.

They called for liquor, both Beer, Ale, and Wine, with a hye down, ho down, Lanktre down derrie, And every thing that was curious and fine,

without ever a stiver of Mony.

They drank to their Hostess a merry full bowl,
with a hye down. ho down, Lanktre down derry,
She pledg'd them in love like a generous Soul,
Without ever a stiver of Mony.

The Hostess, her Maid, and [her] Cousin all three,
with a hye down, ho down, Lanktre down derry,
They Kist and was merry, as merry cou'd be,
Without ever a stiver of Mony.

Full Bottles and Glasses replenisht the Board

with a hye down, ho down, Lanktre down derry, No Liquors was wanting the house cou'd afford without ever a stiver of Mony.

When they had been Merry good part of the day, with a hye down, ho down, Lanktre down derry, They called their Hostess to know what's to pay, without ever a stiver of Mony.

16

20

24

28

32

36

40

There's Thirty good shilling and Six pence, (she cry'd)
with a hye down, ho down, lanktre down derry,
They told her that she should be soon satisfy'd,
Without ever a stiver of Mony.

The Handsomest Man of the three up he got,
with a hye down, ho down, lanktre down derry,
He laid her on her Back, and paid her the shot,
without ever a stiver of Mony.

44

48

The middlemost Man to her Cousin he went,
with a hye down, ho down, lanktre down derry,
She being handsome, he gave her Content,'
without ever a stiver of Mony.

The last Man of all he took up with the Maid,

with a hye down, ho down, lanktre down derry, And thus the whole shot it was Lovingly paid, without ever a stiver of Mony.

The Hostess, the Cousin, and Servant, we find,

with a hye down, ho down, Lanktre down derry,

Made Courchies, and thankt them for being so kind,
Without ever a stiver of Mony.

The Hostess said, welcome kind Gentlemen, all,
with a hye down, ho down, lanktre down derry,
you chance to come this way be pleased to Call,
without ever a stiver of Mony.

If

Then taking their Leaves they went merrily out,
with a hye down, ho down, lanktre down derry,
And they'r gone for to Travel the Nation about,
without ever a stiver of Mony.

FINIS.

Licensed according to Order.

52

56

60

64

68

Printed by C. Bates, at the Sun and Bible in Pye Corner.

[In White-Letter; as are all that follow, in vol. i.]

1 Sic. Perhaps, "He being," etc.

Mrs. Cooke's Lament.

MRS. COOKE's Sorrowful Lamentation has been preserved to us by having been printed (as usual) on one side of a probably-unsold sheet; the blank page being afterwards found useful by another publisher, in the following year, to print upon it the Account of a Sea-Monster (Bagford Collection, i. 89 verso). The tune is "Forgive me if your looks I thought;" of which the music (by Robert King) with the words are given in Playford's Banquet of Music, 1688, ii. p. 1; and the words alone in Tixall Poetry, 240:

THE JEALOUS LOVER.

FORGIVE me, if your looks I thought The torment of a long despair

Did once some change discover;

To be too jealous is the fault
Of every tender Lover.

My truth these kind reproaches show,
Which you blame so severely :

A sign, alas! you little know,
What 'tis to love sincerely.

I did in silence smother;
But tis a pain I cannot bear,

To think, you love another.
My fate depends alone on you,

I am but what you make me;
Divinely blest, if you prove true,
Undone, if you forsake me.

For the Loss of her husband Thomas Cooke, the Famous Butcher of Gloucester, who was Executed at Tyburn on Wednesday the 11th of August, 1703.

TO THE TUNE OF, Forgive me if your Looks I Thought.

I.

Nto my sad Complaint give ear,

you that hear my Story;

As Fate has been to me severe,

Set my sad Case before ye;

4

O! how my Heart with Grief was fill'd,

Where shall I run to hide my Grief?
Will not kind Heaven ease me?
No pity now can bring relief,
No earthly Blessings please me:
Sorrow alone my Food shall be,
I'll spend my time in Weeping,
And pray and wish most constantly;
Heav'n has his Soul in keeping.

V.

Some little Favour it is true,
Our Gracious Queen did offer,

Which serv'd but to encrease my Woe,
Since he at last must suffer: