(3)
We'd not ſpent many hours alone,
before my cruel Father came;
And in a paſſion ſtraight be flew,
calling my husband John by name.
O! then he caſt him into priſon;
with chains and fetters bound him faſt,
And by the law be was oblig'd
to ſuffer death then at the laſt.
Then it was my Father's pleaſure,
to place me where my lore did die;
For to behold his execution,
the more me for to terrify.
But when I ſaw my lover coming,
ſurrounded to the gallows-tree,
Then my poor heart that was within me,
ſeem'd to die as well as he.
But when my ſenſes I recover'd,
the execution for to ſee;
This I ſaid my friends have acted,
well may I ſay they've ruin'd me.
Now let this my lamentation,
to old and young both far and near,
And from the higheſt reputation,
in love don't croſs your children dear.
Leſt it at laſt may prove their ruin,
as my dear parents they ⟨have⟩ done,
Wit and beauty is ſo engaging
love is a (illegible text) ⟨no⟩ one can ſhun.
