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But Ise had eane stuck fast tho',
Full nine months from that day.
And now poor Jenny's maiden-head,
Shame on't, they find is lost,
The little brat has aw betray'd,
Was ever lass thus cross'd?
One day young Jenny with her son,
She to the fields did go,
Unto some pleasant valley, where
Sweet smelling flowers did grow:
She sat herself down on the ground,
With tears under a tree,
Crying, Jockey has me betray'd,
And will not marry me.
Now Jockey was a miller's son,
Of Edinborough town,
And as she sat lamenting there,
With tears upon the ground;
She saw Jockey upon a horse,
Come riding on the way,
And on his flute, this muckle lad,
Melodiously did play.
So soon as she beheld his face,
She straitway did arise,
