Betsey Baker (1829)/Betsey Baker

BETSEY BAKER.

AIR.———“ Push about the Jorum.”

As Sung by Mr. Potts, Theatrical Pavilion Glasgow.

From noise and bustle far away,
Hard work my time employing,
How happily I passed each day,
Content and health enjoying;
The birds did sing and so did I,
As I trudged o’er each acre,
I never knew what ’twas to sigh,
Till I saw Betsey Baker.

At church I met her dressed so neat,
One Sunday in hot weathr
With love I found my heart did beat,
As we sung psalms together.
So piously she hung her head,
The while her voice did shake, ah!
I thought if ever I did wed,
’Twould be with Betsey Baker.

So from her side I could not budge,
And sure I thought no harm on’t,
My elbow then she gave a nudge,
And bade me mind the sarment.
When church was over out she walked,
But I did overtake her,
Determined I would not be baulked,
———I spoke to Betsey Baker.

Her manners were genteel and cool,
I found on conversation,
She had just come from boarding-school,
And finished her education:
But love made me speak out quite free;
Says I, “I’ve many an acre,
Will you give me your company?”
———“I sha’nt,” said Betsey Baker.

All my entreaties she did slight,
And I was forced to leave her,
I got no sleep all that there night,
For love had brought a fever.
The doctor came, he smelt his cane,
With long face like a quaker,
Said he, “young man, where lies thy pain?”
Says I, “In Betsey Baker.”

Because I was not bad enough,
He boluss'd and he pill’d me,
And if I’d taken all his stuff,
I think he would ha’ kil'd me ;
I put an end to all the strife,
’Twixt him and the undertaker,
And what d'ye think ’twas saved my ⟨life⟩,
———Why, thoughts of Betsey Baker.

I then again to Betsey went,
Once more with love attacked her,
But, meantime, she had got acquaint
With a ramping mad play-actor:
If she would have him, he did say,
A lady he would make her;
He gammoned her to run away,
And I lost Betsey Baker.

I fretted very much to find
My hopes of love so undone,
And mother thought ’twould ease my mind
If I came up to London;
But though I strive another way,
My thoughts will ne’er forsake her;
I dream all night and think all day
Of cruel Betsey Baker.

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