An answer to the bonny Scot; or, The sorrowful complaint of the yielding lass. In care and grief, without relief, this yielding lass was left; in this distress, and heaviness she was of hopes bereft. To the tune of The spinning-wheel. Licensed according to order. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription B01395 of text R30817 in the English Short Title Catalog (Wing A3391). Textual changes and metadata enrichments aim at making the text more computationally tractable, easier to read, and suitable for network-based collaborative curation by amateur and professional end users from many walks of life. The text has been tokenized and linguistically annotated with MorphAdorner. The annotation includes standard spellings that support the display of a text in a standardized format that preserves archaic forms ('loveth', 'seekest'). Textual changes aim at restoring the text the author or stationer meant to publish. This text has not been fully proofread Approx. 3 KB of XML-encoded text transcribed from 1 1-bit group-IV TIFF page image. EarlyPrint Project Evanston,IL, Notre Dame, IN, St. Louis, MO 2018 B01395 Wing A3391 Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.8[13] 99887595 ocm99887595 183221 2248541250

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 Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 2, no. B01395) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 183221) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A5:2[12]) An answer to the bonny Scot; or, The sorrowful complaint of the yielding lass. In care and grief, without relief, this yielding lass was left; in this distress, and heaviness she was of hopes bereft. To the tune of The spinning-wheel. Licensed according to order. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. (woodcuts). Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden Ball in Pye Corner., [London] : [between 1685-1688] Place and date of publication suggested by Wing. Verse: "Behold, I pray, what's come to pass ..." Imperfect: stained and cropped. Reproduction of original in the British Library. eng Ballads, English -- 17th century. eebo An Answer to the bonny Scot; the sorrowful complaint of the yielding lass. In care and grief, without relief, this yielding lass was left, in this dis anon 1688 1 475 12 0 0 0 0 0 252.63 F The rate of 252.63 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the F category of texts with 100 or more defects per 10,000 words. 2008-06 Assigned for keying and markup 2008-11 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2010-01 Sampled and proofread 2010-01 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2010-04 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
An ANSWER to the Bonny SCOT ; Or , The Sorrowfull Complaint of the Yielding LASS . In Care , and Grief , without Relief , this yielding Lass was left ; in this Distress , and Heaviness she was of Hopes bereft . To the Tune of The Spinning-Wheel

Licensed according to Order .

depiction of a spinning wheel

depiction of a woman

depiction of a man

Behold , I pray , what 's come to pass , when twenty W●●ks was 〈◊〉 and gone , This bonny youthful yielding Lass , did sigh , and bitterly t●ke on , Saying My Grief I may reveal , Too soon I left my Spinning-wheel . With honey words , both soft and sweet , alas he has d●luded me . My Heart within my Breast does beat to see my woful Destiny ▪ My Virgin Treasure he did steal , Too 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 〈◊〉 my Spinning-wheel . Each Complement I did ●●●ieve , so Serpent-like he did betray , That had there been a second Eve , she har●ly could ha●e said him nay : The sad Effects of this I feel , Too soon I left my Spinning-wheel . He utter'd not one word of Truth , but with Delu●●●ns led me on , And cropt the Rose-bud of thy Youth , so that my splendid Glory 's gone : My wounded Heart no one can heal Too soon I left my Spinning-wheel .

I Am a Damsel now defil'd , and am expo●'d to open shame , For here I find my self with Child , and have no Father for the same : My very Tears do's Grief reveal , Too soon I left my Spinning-wheel . For my young Scot sad moan I make , whose Beauty did my favour win ; I find him like a painted Snake , that 's fair without , and false within : His cruel Sting I yet do feel , Too soon I left my Spinning-wheel . He came with a most noble Grace , so sweet , so charming , fair and trim ; That I no sooner see his Face , but streight I did consent to him ; Such flames of Love I then did feel ; Which made me leave my Spinning-Wheel . My Love no favour will allow , he 's gone , and yields me no relief ; For that small dram of Pleasure , now I feel a Hundred weight of Grief : My Sorrow I cannot reveal , Too soon I left my Spinning-wheel . Some Gallants most deceitful are , as by Experience I may say , They 'll call a Damsel charming Fair , until their Hearts they do betray : In grief I may this truth reveal , Too soon I left my Spinning-wheel . FINIS .

Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden-Ball in Pye-Corner .