# Fortunate sailor, and the farmer's daughter, in the county of Kent

THE
Fortunate Sailor,
AND THE
Farmer's Daughter,
IN THE
COUNTY OF KENT.
A LOVE SONG,
IN THREE PARTS.
Falkirk, Printed in the Year 1821.
THE
FORTUNATE SAILOR
A Sailor courted a Farmer's Daughter, whoſe living was in the wild of Kent. But mark I pray you, what follow'd after, the waited long or ſhe gave conſent: With conſtant courting, and ſtill reporting, great things concerning the ocean wide: Said he, My ſweeting, at this (illegible text) meeting, Oh! give conſent for to be my Bride.
I muſt acknowledge I do adore thee, with all the tender reſpects of love; None ever conquer'd my heart before thee, whom I admire and prize above. Then richeſt jewel, O be not cruel; but lay thine angry frowns aſide; And my dear ſweeting, at this bleſs d meeting, Oh! give conſent for to be my Bride.
Said ſhe, A Sailor I don't admire, becauſe they travel to foreign parts, The more their company we deſire, the more they leave us with aching hearts, And we lament with ſad vexation; therefore I pray now be ſatisfy'd: Parting would grieve me, therefore believe me, I am not willing to be your Bride.
Be not diſturbed at the vain notions for I'll not often afflict thee so; once more I reckon to fail the ocean Becauſe my love I'm oblig'd to go
​To ſerve the nation in this my ſtation, the which ere long I will lay aſide: Therefore, my ſweeting, at this bleſs d meeting, Oh! give conſent for to be my Bride.
After the death of my loving mother,
I ſhall be bleſs'd with a good eſtate, And thee, my jewel, abore all other, I have made choice of to be my mate: Let me but gain thee, and I'll maintain thee;
with peace and pleaſure on every ſide: Therefore, my ſweeting at this bleſs d meeting,
Oh! give conſent for to be my Bride.
Although I ſeem like a private Sailor,
yet ne'ertheleſs I declare to thee. My Father was a Merchant-Taylor, and left me ſeven ſcore pounds by year: A fair beginning, ſilk lace fine linen,
for thee, my jewel, I will provide: Therefore, my ſweeting, at tinis bleſs'd meeting, On! give conſent for to be my Bride.
When once I come to the full poſſeſſion of my inheritance, never fear,
But I'll account it the beſt diſcretion to ſtay at home and enjoy my dear, With peace and pleaſure, in midſt of treaſure, taking my leave of the ocean wide: Therefore, my ſweating, at this bless'd meeting, Oh! give conſent for to be my Bride.
When he lad told her this pleaſant ſtory. the had no power to lay him nay: Thinking herself in the highest glory, unto the Sailor ſhe thus did ſay,
​Thou'ſt gain'd my favour and love for ever,
therefore, my dear, be ſatisfy'd, As thou art loyal, no more denial, for I am willing to be thy Bride.
Said he, My promiſe ſhall not be broken, ſo long as I have a day to live; And take this ring as a faithful token, which as a token of love I give. I'll wed thee fairly and love thee dearly,
when I return from the ocean wide To thee, dear ſweeting, at this bleſs'd meeting thou ſt giv'n conſent for to be my Brde.
PART II.
Unto his Mother it was reported. before he ever could get on board, That he the Farmer's Daughter courted. whoſe friends and parents could not afford To give a portion— at this range notion his Mother to him in a paſſion run, And cry'd, Forsake her, if your wife you make her, I'll never own you to be my Son.
What! will you take one with ne'er a penny,
a Farmer's Daughter. as I am told, When here you may have a choice of many with birth and breeding, and ſtore of gold, In London city?— Methinks 'tis pity that this my wealth ſhould to ruin run:
I pray forſake her: if your wife you make her, I'll never own you to be my Son.
There's miſtreſs Susan, of cherming beauty, whole five hundred pounds I know;
​I charge you therefore, upon your duty, that you to her a-wooing go; Pray pleaſe your Mother, and quit the other: Why ſhould your treaſure to ruin run? Be ſure forſake her— if your wife you make her, I'll never own you to be my Son.
You may have Nancy, Sir William's couſin, a wealthy damſel, of beauty bright: Nay, I could mention at leaſt a dozen, who in your company take delight: Can theſe not pleaſe you?—D(illegible text) madness seize you? What! are you willing to be undone? I pray forſake her if your wife you make her, I'll never own you to be my Son.
What makes you in ſue's a paſſion Mother? I muſt needs tell you you to come too late: I love my jewel above all other whom you can mention, though ne'er ſo great; For ſhe s my honey, a fig for money. ſhe has my love and affection won: I'll ne'er forſake her, but my wife I'll make her, though you diſown me to be your Son
I ever honour'd my tender Parents, and that I hope I can fairly prove: Why ſhould you threaten to be at variance, becauſe I marry the girl I love? Although you beat me, abhor, and hate me, I'll finish what is ſo well, begun;
I'll ne'er forſake her, but my wife I'll make her though you diſown me to be your Son.
Fair youthful beauty is often winning, and men's fond hearts are ſoon betray'd; ​Dear Mother, think of your own beginning, my Father took you a ſervant maid: Then don't deſpiſe her, I mean to raiſe her, as my Father to you hath done, I'll ne'er forſake her, but my wife I'll make her, though you diſown me to be your Son.
Theſe eight long years I have ſail'd the ocean, and then for love I to her did go; I ne'er enquired about a portion, ſhe may have money for ought I know: But have or have not. now ſhe is my lot, I joy to think that her love I've won; I'll ne'er forſake her, but my wife I'll make her, though you diſown me to be your Son.
The Farmer's Daughter I have been courting though I ſhould marry her out of hand, You cannot hinder me of my fortune, as being heir to my Father's land: When I that bleſſing ſhall be poſſeſſing, I'll never travel as I have done; With her I'll tarry. whom I would marry, till the laſt ſand of my glaſs is run.
The Sailor's mother like one diſtracted, the ſmote her breaſt, and her hair ſhe tore, Saying. Since he had ſuch love contracted, ſhe'd never come in his preſence more. He cry'd, Dear Mother your paſſion ſmother, for I cannot from my promiſe run: I'll never forſake her, but my wife I'll make her,
though you diſown me to be your ſon.
PART III.
The Farmer hearing of this confuſion,
and that his Daughter was ſighted for By his harſh Mother, then, in concluſion, he let the jolly Sailor know, That if he'd tarry at home and marry, a ſpacious farm he would give him free, For plowing, ſowing for reaping and mowing, he had no child in the world but ſhe.
The noble Sailor ſoon conſented,
to quit the trouble of the ocean wide:
His friends and he they were well contented, they would in pomp to his Mother ride: With their gay attire, like Knights and Squires, they made a ſplendid tearing ſhow, He told his mother he had brought another, the Farmer's Daughter ſhe did not know.
Amongſt a million of charming faces, the like of her's you d ſcarce behold; Her garb was sattin, with coſtly laces, and round her neck a (illegible text) chain of gold! Tranſparent beauty! my Son, thy duty,
thou haſt obſerv'd now I muſt ſay; Still as ſhe view'd her, ſhe did conclude her is to be no leſs than a Lady gay.
Next day thereafter they were married,
his Mother ſaid with a cheerful voice,
I'm glad all things are ſo fairly carried, I never liked your Farmer's choice: ​T'would been our ruin, and ſad undoing, if thou had took her, I'm bold to ſay: Come love and treaſure bring joy and pleasure, I'm glad you've married a Lady gay.
With that the jolly Farmer told her, this Lady ſprung from the painful plow, Although, ſaid he, in (illegible text)k you behold her, then what can you ſay againſt her now? Pray cauſe do fraction, nor make distraction, but love them both as they can agree; And do not harm her, for I'm a Farmer, and have no child in the world, but ſhe.
That very minute, upon the table, out of his bag he was pleas'd to pour Two hundred guineas, and ſaid, I'm able to give my Daughter as many more. This pleas'd his Mother, above all other, who ſaid, I'm glad the knot is ty'd; When first he fought her, I never thought her to be ſo beautiful a Bride.
Then there was nothing but joy between them, the muſic play'd a moſt pleaſant ſound! You would have laughed if you had ſeen them, the old wife trotted the Cheſhire round. The Farmer's treaſure brought peace and pleaſure, all grief and ſorrow bid adieu: His Mother kiss'd her, and often bleſ'd her. You ſee what ſilver and gold can do.
FINIS.
This work was published before January 1, 1929, and is in the public domain worldwide because the author died at least 100 years ago.
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