“Oer my Sins Thou sit & moan...”

[Postscript]

Oer my Sins Thou sit & moan t Hast thou no Sins of thy own t Oer my Sins thou sit & weep t And lull thy own Sins fast asleep t

What Transgressions I commit Are for thy Transgressions fit They thy Harlots thou their Slave And my Bed becomes their Grave

Poor pale pitiable form That I follow in a Storm Iron tears & groans of lead Bind around my akeing head

And let us go to the highest downs With many pleasing wiles The Woman that does not love your Frowns Will never embrace your smiles