Classic Poem

B ALOW , my babe, ly stil and sleipe!
It grieves me sair to see thee weipe;
If thou'st be silent, I'se be glad;
Thy maining maks my heart ful sad.
Balow, my boy, thy mither's joy,
Thy father breides me great annoy.
Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe!
It grieves me sair to see thee weipe.

When he began to court my luve,
And with his sugred words to muve,
His faynings fals, and flattering cheire,
To me that time did not appeire;
But now I see, most cruell hee
Cares neither for my babe nor mee.
Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe!
It grieves me sair to see thee weipe.

Ly stil, my darlinge, sleipe awhile!
And when thou wakest sweitly smile;
But smile not, as thy father did,
To cozen maids; nay, God forbid!
But yette I feire, thou wilt gae neire
Thy fathers hart and face to beire.
Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe!
It grieves me sair to see thee weipe.

I canna chuse, but ever will
Be luving to thy father stil:
Whair-eir he gae, whair-eir he ryde,
My luve with him maun stil abyde:
In weil or wae, whair-eir he gae,
Mine hart can neir depart him frae.
Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe!
It grieves me sair to see thee weipe.

But doe not doe not, prettie mine,
To faynings fals thine hart incline:
Be loyal to thy luver trew,
And nevir change hir for a new;
If gude or faire, of hir have care,
For women's banning's wonderous sair.
Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe!
It grieves me sair to see thee weipe.

Bairne, sin thy cruel father's gane,
Thy winsome smiles maun eise my paine;
My babe and I'll together live;
He'll comfort me when cares doe grieve;
My babe and I right saft will ly,
And quite forget man's cruelty.
Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe!
It grieves me sair to see thee weipe.

Fareweil, fareweil, thou falsest youth
That ever kist a woman's mouth!
I wish all maids be warned by mee,
Nevir to trust man's curtesy;
For if we doe but chance to bow,
They'll use us then they care not how.
Balow, my babe, ly stil and sleipe!
It grieves me sair to see thee weipe.