Happened to spot this. Seems to be an alternate copy of that ballad. Hooray to Dungheap No. 17 for puzzling it out. Tune is "Over Hills and High Mountains," as stated.
http://www.mustrad.org.uk/articles/dung17.htm   Bob
^^
THE YOUNG-MAN'S LAMENTATION

His Passionate Complaint of his Unconstant Lover;
Together with his Resolution to leave her who scornfully slighted him.

To an Excellent New Tune, or, Over Hills and High Mountains
Licensed according to Order.

                1
Meeting's a pleasure,
But parting's a grief,
An Unconstant Lover
Is worse than a Thief;
A Thief he can Rob me,
And take what I have,
But an Unconstant Lover
Will bring me to the Grave.

                2
When fancy is grounded
And rooted beside,
The lover is wounded
As soon as deny'd.
Many torments are bleeding
To encrease his pain,
And the lover lies bleeding
By the darts of disdain.

                3
This is my condition,
I needs must confess,
With humble submission
I have made my address;
In her charms I delighted
More than gold I declare,
Yet am scornfully slighted
For the love which I bear.

                4
I value not treasure
The rich Golden Ore,
There's joy, love and pleasure
Which I dearly adore;
But alas! That sweet blesing
I may not enjoy,
I all sorrows possessing
Which my life will destroy.

                5
Like a ship on the Ocean,
I am tost too and fro,
From the heighth of promotion,
To the depth of sad woe,
While the Billows are roaring
In a tempest of grief,
I the Fates am imploring
But can find no relief.

                6
Of a false-hearted lover
I must needs complain
To my grief I discovered
That my sighs are in vain;
Having mov'd her to pity,
With tears in my eyes,
While that sorrowful dity
She would scorn and despise.


                  7
To think that my Jewel
  should torture me so,
In loves flaming fuel
  with a Feavour I glow,
She's more than ungrateful,
  unconstant, unkind,
To her dear loyal lover
Like the wavering wind.

                8
In her Cheeks blushing Roses
  with lillies appear,
Where Cupid reposes
  as her Charms I draw near;
I account it my duty
  her perfection to prize,
She's a Phoenix for beauty,
Was she constant likewise.

                9
If her heart was not ranging,
  she should soon be my Bride,
But alas she is Changing
  and turns with the Tide,
Having ruined many
  by her false-heart alone,
She's not constant to any
But can love more than one.

                10
Since I find out her folly,
  I'll no longer repine,
But will strive to be jolly
  with a Glass of Rich Wine,
No longer about her
  will I troubled be,
I can now live without her
Let her go, farewell she.

                11
Tho' I am forsaken,
  yet she is forsworn,
Yet she is mistaken
  if she think that I'll mourn,
I'll set as slightly by her,
  as e'er she did me,
And for ever will deny her,
Let her go, farewell she.


Printed for P. Busby, J. Deacon, J. Blare and J. Back.