The Maiden's Bloody Garland; Or,
HIGH-STREET TRAGEDY:
Shewing how
SARAH HOLLY,
a poor unfortunate Serving Maid of the City of
Oxford,
being wronged by her Sweetheart, cut her Throat from Ear to Ear, was next Morning found dead in her Bed, and afterwards buried in the King's Highway.
Tune, There were Three Pilgrims.
A Mournful Ditty I will tell,
Ye knew poor
Sarah Holly
well,
Who at the
Golden Leg
did dwell.
Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho:
She was in Love, as some do say,
Her Sweetheart made her go astray,
And at the last did her betray.
Heigh-ho,
&c.
The Babe within her Womb did cry,
Unto her Sweetheart she did hie,
And Tears like Rain fell from her Eye.
Heigh-ho,
&c.
But oh! the Wretch's Heart was hard,
He to her Cries gave no Regard,
Is this, says she, my Love's Reward?
Heigh-ho,
&c.
Oh! woe is me! I am betray'd,
Oh! had I liv'd a spotless Maid,
I ne'er with Sobs and Sighs had said.
Heigh-ho,
&c.
But now I'm press'd with Grief and Woe
And Quiet ne'er again can know,
God grant my Soul to Heaven may go.
Heigh-ho,
&c.
For I my wretched Days must end,
Yet e'en for thee my Prayers I'll send,
I die to all the Word a Friend.
Heigh-ho,
&c.
Then to her Friends she bid adieu,
And gave to each some Token true,
With, "think on me when this you view."
Heigh-ho,
&c.
Unto the Ostler at the
Bear,
She gave a Ringlet of her Hair,
And said, Farewell my Dearest Dear.
Heigh-ho,
&c.
O then to
Madam Luff
she said,
To-morrow Morn come to my Bed,
And there you'll find me quite Stone dead.
Heigh-ho,
&c.
Too true she spoke, it did appear,
Next Morn they call'd, she could not hear:
Her Throat was cut from Ear to Ear.
Heigh-ho,
&c.
No Spark of Life was in her shown,
No Breath they saw, nor heard a Groan,
Her precious Soul was from her flown.
Heigh-ho,
&c.
She was not as I once have seen
Her trip in
Martin Gardens
green,
With Apron starch'd, and Ruffles clean.
Heigh-ho,
&c.
With Bonnet trimm'd and flounc'd and all,
Which they a
Dulcimer
do call,
And Stockings white as Snows that fall.
Heigh-ho,
&c.
But dull was that black laughing Eye,
And pale those Lips of Cherry-Dye,
And set those Teeth of Ivory.
Heigh-ho,
&c.
Those Limbs which well the Dance have led,
When Simmons
Btuter'd Pease
hath play'd,
Were bloody, lifeless, cold and dead.
Heigh-ho
&c.
The Crowner and the Jury came,
To give their Verdict on the same;
They doomed her harmless Corpse to Shame.
Heigh-ho,
&c.
At Midnight, so the Law doth say,
They did her mangled Limbs convey,
And bury in the King's Highway.
Heigh-ho,
&c.
No Priest in W
did there attend,
His kind Assistance for to lend,
Her Soui to Paradise to send.
Heigh-ho,
&c.
No Shroud her ghastly Face did hide,
No Winding Sheet was round her ty'd,
Like Dogs, she to her Grave was hied.
Heigh-ho,
&c.
And then, your Pity let it move,
Oh pity her who dy'd for Love,
A Stake they through her Body drove.
Heigh-ho,
&c.
It would have melted Stones to see
Such Savageness and Cruelty
Us'd to a Maid of Twenty-three.
Heigh-ho,
&c.
Ye Maidens an Example take,
For
Sarah Holly
's wretched Sake,
O never Virtue's Ways forsake.
Heigh-ho,
&c.
Ye Maidens all of
Oxford
Town,
O never yield your chaste Renown
To Velvet Cap, or tufted Gown.
Heigh-ho,
&c.
And when they do to Love pretend,
No Ear unto their Fables lend,
But think on
Sally
's dismal End.
Heigh-ho, Heigh-ho.
FINIS.