But when to church the corpse was brought,
And both of them met at the gate;
What mournful tears by friends were shed,
When that alas it was too late,—
When they in silent grave were laid,
Instead of pleasing marriage-bed.
You parents all both far and near,
By this sad story warning take;
Nor to your children be severe,
When they their choice in love do make;
Let not the love of cursèd gold,
True lovers from their love withhold.
THE CRAFTY LOVER;
OR, THE LAWYER OUTWITTED.
Tune of I love thee more and more.
[This excellent old ballad is transcribed from a copy printed in Aldermary church-yard. It still continues to be published in the old broadside form.]
Of a rich counsellor I write,
Who had one only daughter,
Who was of youthful beauty bright;
Now mark what follows after. [111]
Her uncle left her, I declare,
A sumptuous large possession;
Her father he was to take care
Of her at his discretion.
She had ten thousand pounds a-year,
And gold and silver ready,
And courted was by many a peer,
Yet none could gain this lady.
At length a squire’s youngest son
In private came a-wooing,
And when he had her favour won,
He feared his utter ruin.
The youthful lady straightway cried,
‘I must confess I love thee,
Though lords and knights I have denied,
Yet none I prize above thee:
Thou art a jewel in my eye,
But here,’ said she, ‘the care is,—
I fear you will be doomed to die
For stealing of an heiress.’
The young man he replied to her
Like a true politician;
‘Thy father is a counsellor,
I’ll tell him my condition.
Ten guineas they shall be his fee,
He’ll think it is some stranger;
Thus for the gold he’ll counsel me,
And keep me safe from danger.’