The Maids Hue & Cry
after a Husband,
OR,
The Damosels Complaint.
Tune of, Two English Travellors. This may be printed, R. P.
|
IF that there a bonny
|
brisk Batchellor be,
|
Oh! gentle sweet Cupid,
|
convey him to me,
|
And grant me a Man
|
without any delay
|
To court me, and love me
|
by Night and by Day.
|
I value not whether
|
he's black, brown, or fair:
|
To get me a Husband
|
is all my whole care:
|
For all other things
|
I wiil shift as I can,
|
If I can but marry
|
some bonny Young-man.
|
The pevish nice Virgins
|
admire a sweet face,
|
And others for Riches
|
will any embrace;
|
'Tis true, Gold and Beauty
|
create much delight,
|
But give me a man
|
that can please me at night.
|
[If ? o]n
|
[such a man ca]n be found,
|
I'le give him my heart
|
and five hundred good pound:
|
The Portion is small,
|
but i'le prove such a wife,
|
He ne'r shall repent him
|
all daies of his life.
|
Now after so much
|
by a Virgin is told,
|
That for a good Husband
|
will give all my Gold:
|
Methinks some sweet William,
|
or Thomas, or Ned,
|
Should venture, and try me,
|
and take me to bed.
|
What were it for any
|
of these pretty men
|
To hug me and kiss me
|
agen and agen?
|
I should think a young Maid
|
were more sweet and divine
|
Than all the delights of
|
the juice of the Vine.
|
There's scarce a young man
|
but his Bottle will mind:
|
But in a Wifes Arms
|
no pleasure can find;
|
When we talk of a Husband
|
away they are gone,
|
Resolv'd (as they tell us)
|
to marry------with none.
|
My Masters I think
|
'tis a very hard case
|
That none but your Misses
|
you ever embrace:
|
Strange charms you can find
|
in Coelias bright eye,
|
But hang the dull Wife
|
every Fopling does cry.
|
To conclude all in short,
|
i'le get if I can
|
A Husband that shall be
|
a lively brisk man:
|
And if such a person
|
would once come to me,
|
I'd strike up a bargain,
|
and quickly agree.
|
|
|
|
|
|