A Brisk Young Widow

In Chester town there lived
A brisk young widow,
For beauty and fine clothes
None could excel her.
She was proper, stout and tall,
Her fingers long and small,
She's a comely dame withal,
She's a brisk young widow.

At length of all there came
A brisk young farmer
With his hat turned up all round
Thinking to gain her.
Saying " O madam, 'tis for you
This wide world I'll go through,
If that you'll prove true,
If you'll wed a farmer."

She says, " I'm not for you
Nor no such fellow.
I am for a lively lad
That hath got riches.
It's not your hogs nor yows
Can maintain furbelows,
Besides all my fine clothes
That's all my glory."

" O madam, don't be coy
In all your glory,
For fear of another day
And another story.
If the world on you should frown,
Your topknot must come down
To a linsey wolsey gown
In all your glory."

At last of all there came
A sooty collier,
With his hat bent down all round
He soon did gain her.
Which made the farmer swear,
" The widow's mazed, I'm sure.
I'll never go no more
Courting a widow."
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