A prety ducke there was that said,
To whome shall I make mone
I haue beene long a pretie maid,
And yet I lie alone.
Alone I lie in deepe dispaire,
Which kils my louely heart,
For none wil my sweet ioyes repaire,
Or play a louers part.
A tickling part that maidens loue,
But I can neuer get,
Yet long haue sought, and stil do craue,
At rest my hart to set.
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www.harald-lillmeyer.kulturserver.de