THE
Wanton Widows pleasant Mistake,
Or, A Wooden Image turn'd to Flesh and Blood.
To the Tune of, Let Ceasar Live long.
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A Buxom rich Widdow had late laid in Grave
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Her Husband Old Simon, her true Drudge and slave
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But O the sad loss of beloved dear Mate.
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She lacks her dear Bed-fellow, O her hard Fate,
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With many a-groan then, she sigh'd and she cry'd,
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She wants her Old Simon to lye by her side.
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To a Carver she goes then, resolv'd for to get her
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A Husband of Wood made, instead of better:
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The Carver an Image does presently make,
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Toth' life like Old Simon; and for his dear sake,
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E'ry night in her Bed, whatsoever betide,
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This Wooden Old Simon shall lye by her side.
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With a Shirt on his Back, and a Cap on his Head,
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And warm'd very well, lay'd a-nights in her Bed;
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She kisses and [b]ills him, her Arms round him throws,
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And hugs him, but all to small purpose, she knows:
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Yet for dear Husbands sake, whatsoever betide,
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This Wooden Old Simon shall lye by her side.
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This jolly gay Widdow had Suitors came to her,
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Who proffer'd with all the best words they cou'd wooe her
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To chuse a new Husband to take off her Cares:
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A Husband! ah no, she's all deaf to their Pray'rs:
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In vain they all Courted, the place was supply'd,
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For her woode Old Simon still lay by her side.
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At length a brisk Spark, whose Estate run adrift,
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And wanted Rich Widdow to give him a lift,
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By wheedling and bribing the Widdows kind Maid,
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A subtile sly Plot strait between them was laid,
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One night in her Bed this brisk Gallant to hide,
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'Stead of wooden Old Simon to lye by her side.
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Like Old Simon drest, though not made of hard Wood,
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But a softer young Simon of sweet Flesh and Blood,
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Hid close 'twixt the Sheets where he lies snug and still
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Till the widow (who harmless poor thing dreamt no ill)
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As brisk as a Girl, and as gay as a Bride,
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Trips nimbly to Bed, and lyes close by his side.
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With a Reach and a Yawn, and a soft sigh or two,
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As a poor single Widdow might very well do;
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No sooner she felt her self all thorough warm,
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But stretching at last a kind Leg and an Arm;
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With a plump heaving Breast, and a warm Cheek beside,
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She turn'd to her Simon that lay by her side.
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As she gave the kind Hug, likewise all on a sudden,
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She thought she toucht somthing that did not fell wooden
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For something she felt which was all soft and warm,
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Nay, at last something stir'd too; but thinking no harm,
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She hug'd him still the closer, resolv'd to be try'd,
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What had alter'd the wooden old Sim by her side.
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But oh, to unriddle her Wonder! her Arms
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Lockt fast in Embraces, all Rapture and Charms;
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Till melting, and dying, and twining, and pressing,
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She felt something sweet, so beyond all expressing,
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That never, O never, all Ravisht she cry'd,
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So dear a kind Simon e're lay by my side.
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The Maid in the morning, but not till near Noon,
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For fear of disturbing her Mistress too soon,
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Came and knockt at the door, for to know of her Lady,
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What for Dinner she'd order to have her get ready;
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What Bak'd, Boyl'd, or Roast, she'd have her provide,
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'Gainst she rose from the Simon that lay by her side.
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Roast the Pig and the Goose, the brisk Widow reply'd
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Boyl a stout Leg of Mutton, with Turneps beside;
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Get a dish of plump Parridge, with a good smother'd Coney
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The best can be purchas'd for love or for money:
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With a Dish of sweet Custards and Cheesecakes beside,
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For me and my Dearest that lyes by my side.
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Ay, Madam, your will shall be done, says the Maid,
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But only sweet Mistress, I'm sorely afraid,
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We have not at home got Wood enought here
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To make a quick Fire to dress this good Cheer:
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How, Hussey, crys Widdow, want Fire for your turn!
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Burn Old Simon, ye Jade, take Old Simon and Burn.
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Old Simon was Burnt then, and all this good Chee[r]
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Was Welcome too small for her Bed-fellow dear;
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A senseless Old Simon, that Wooden dull Tool!
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A silly dry Image, no, Burn the Old Fool:
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With s sweeter soft Armful much better supply'd,
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She has warm Flesh and Bones now to lye by her side.
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FINIS.
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