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And if she would return
to her father's bright hall,
She might live in great splendour,
but that she ne'er shall:
But says that she'll wander
till death end the strife,
In lamenting her Shepherd,
that she was not his wife:
And thro' many strange countries
with her flock loves to go,
For to show cruel parents,
what true love can do.
THE TURISH LADY.
Young virgins all I pray draw near,
A pretty story you shall hear,
It's of a Turkish Lady brave,
Who fell in love with an English slave:
A merchant ship that in Bristol lay,
⟨In⟩ which we sailed from that bay,
⟨By⟩ a Turkish rover o'ertook were we,
⟨And⟩ all of us made slaves to be.
