The Scotch lad's moan. Or, Pretty Moggies unkindness. To an excellent new Scotch tune. This may be printed, R.P. D'Urfey, Thomas, 1653-1723. This text is an enriched version of the TCP digital transcription B02830 of text R227370 in the English Short Title Catalog (Wing D2771). 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 B02830 Wing D2771 Interim Tract Supplement Guide EBB65H[82] Interim Tract Supplement Guide C.20.f.8[413] 99887289 ocm99887289 183533 2264218057

This keyboarded and encoded edition of the work described above is co-owned by the institutions providing financial support to the Early English Books Online Text Creation Partnership. This Phase I text is available for reuse, according to the terms of Creative Commons 0 1.0 Universal . The text can be copied, modified, distributed and performed, even for commercial purposes, all without asking permission.

Early English books online. (EEBO-TCP ; phase 1, no. B02830) Transcribed from: (Early English Books Online ; image set 183533) Images scanned from microfilm: (Early English books; Tract supplement ; A2:4[82]; A5:2[324]) The Scotch lad's moan. Or, Pretty Moggies unkindness. To an excellent new Scotch tune. This may be printed, R.P. D'Urfey, Thomas, 1653-1723. 1 sheet ([1] p.) : ill. (woodcuts), music. Printed for P. Brooksby at the Gold[e]n ball in Py-corner., [London] : [between 1685-1688] Attributed to D'Urfey by Wing. Verse: "A lad o'th' town that made his moan ..." Date and place of publication suggested by Wing. Item at A5:2[324] imperfect: trimmed, affecting imprint. Reproduction of original in the Harvard University, Houghton Library and the British Library. eng Ballads, English -- 17th century. eebo The Scotch lad's moan. Or, Pretty Moggies unkindness. To an excellent new Scotch tune. This may be printed, R.P. D'Urfey, Thomas, 1688 1 444 0 0 0 20 0 0 4504.5 F The rate of 4504.5 defects per 10,000 words puts this text in the F category of texts with 100 or more defects per 10,000 words. 2008-05 Assigned for keying and markup 2008-08 Keyed and coded from ProQuest page images 2008-09 Sampled and proofread 2008-09 Text and markup reviewed and edited 2009-02 Batch review (QC) and XML conversion
The Scotch Lad's Moan . OR , Pretty Moggies Unkindness . To an excellent New Scotch Tune .

This may be Printed , R. P.

A Lad o' th' Town that made his moan one Winters morning early , Alas ! that I must lye alone , and Moggies bed so near me ; All night I turn , and toss , and sigh , And never can I close my eyes , For thinking that I lig so nigh the Lass I love so dearly . She 's all Delight from foot to crown , and just sixteen her Age is , And that she still must lye alone , my heart and soul enrag'd is : I 'd give the World I might put on Each morn her stockings or her shoon ; If I were but her serving-Loon , I 'd never ask for Wages . GIn Moggy wou'd but he my Bride , I 'd take no farther warning , Nor value au the world beside , nor other Lasses scorning ; My love is grown up to the height , I prize so much my own delight , I care not , had I her one night , so I was dead i' th morning . Geud faith , she 's like a pretty Lass , I never saw a sweeter ; She all her Sex does far surpass in Beauty and in Feature : Gin on her face I chanc'd to gaze , Her pretty looks such Charms displays , That I must ever speak her praise ; Venus was not compleater . When ever Moggy I espy , I lowly dof my Bonnet ; And oft in her sweet company I sing a love-sick Sonnet : Yet she regardless of my pain , Which I strive to express in vain , Bids me forbear for to complain , and tell her no more on it . Ah waes me ! Moggy's to blame , not to grant my desire ; Gin she did first create the flame which set my heart on fire . Was I a King of great Renown , And had a Scepter and a Crown , I at her feet wou'd lay them down , one night for to lig by her . Gin she so mickle is unkind , my life is grown uneasie ; No rest nor quiet can I find , nor nothing that can please me . But if she still continues so , And no more kindness will bestow , To the Elizium shades I go ; ah ! Death will quickly seize me . FINIS .