Pitts, printer, Toy and Marble Ware- house, 6, Great st Andrew street 7 dials
[between 1819 and 1844]
Of a Brazier's daughter who lived near, A pretty story you shall hear, And she would up to London go, To seek a service you shall know.
Her master had one only son, Sweet Betsy's heart was fairly won, For Betsy being so very fair She drew his heart in a fatal snare.
On Sunday night he took his time, Unto sweet Betsy he told his mind. Swearing by all the powers above, 'Tis you sweet Betsy 'tis you I love.
His mother happening for to hear, Which threw her in a fatal snare, For soon she contrived sweet Betsy away, For a slave in the province of Virginia.
Betsy Betsy pack up your [illegible], For I must see what the country shew. You must go with me for a day or two Some of our relations there for to view.
They rode till they came to a sea town, Where ships were sailing in the Downs. Quickly a captain there was found, Unto Virginia they were bound.
Both hired a boat alongside they went Sweet Betsy rode in sad discontent, For now sweet Betsy's upon the salt wave, Sweet Betsy's gone for an arrant slave.
A few days after she returned again. You are welcome mother says the son. But where is Betsy tell me I pray That she behind so long doth stay.
O son O son I plainly see, How great your love is for pretty Betsy Of all such thoughts you must refrain, Since Betsy's sailing over the watery main.
We would rather see our son lie dead, Than with a servant girl to wed, His father spoke most scornfully It will bring disgrace to our family
Four days after the son fell bad No kind of music could make him glad He sighed and slumbered and often cried 'Tis for you sweet Betsy for you I died
A few days after the son was dead. They wrung their hands and shook each head, Saying our son would but rise again We would send for Betsy over the main.