[THE]
Hen-peckt CUCKOLD:
OR,
The Cross-grain'd Wife.
To the Tune of, I met with a Country Lass, etc.
Licensed according to Order.
|
I Marry'd a Scolding Wife,
|
which causes to me much woe,
|
She leads me such a cross-grain'd life,
|
it is but a Word and a Blow.
|
I pleased her well at first,
|
she nothing but Smiles did show,
|
But now she's grown so plaguy Curst,
|
It is but a Word and a Blow.
|
I Labour early and late,
|
and all for to serve my Froe,
|
But when I've done, she breaks my pate
|
It is but a Word and a Blow.
|
I study both night and day,
|
to bring her to my Bow;
|
But all my Care is cast away,
|
For 'tis but a Word and a Blow.
|
Sometimes I meet with a Friend,
|
and to the Alehouse we go,
|
But if I chance a Groat to spend,
|
It is but a Word and a Blow.
|
She makes me to Sweep the House,
|
and Dishes to Wash also;
|
And ev'ry foot gives me a Douse,
|
It is but a Word and a Blow.
|
THe Cradle she makes me Rock,
|
while she does a Gadding go,
|
And all my fare's a Bit and a Knock,
|
It is but a Word and Blow.
|
She'll Cuckold me to my face,
|
and over me stand and Crow;
|
If I complain of this Disgrace,
|
It is but a Word and a Blow.
|
My Dearest, said I, one night,
|
why do you so Cruel grow?
|
She straight began to Scratch and Bite
|
It was but a Word and a Blow.
|
Next day I took heart of Grace,
|
and Angry began to grow;
|
But she gave me a slap o'th Face,
|
It was but a Word and a Blow.
|
I took up a Wooden Can,
|
and thinking at her to throw,
|
She knock'd me down with Frying-pan
|
It was a Word and a Blow.
|
So let me do what I cou'd,
|
she never wou'd better grow;
|
For she was of a Fighting Brood,
|
It was but a Word and a Blow.
|
This makes me weary of Life,
|
I care not whether I go;
|
So I can live but from my Wife,
|
That makes but a Word and a Blow.
|
Let him that a Widdow Wooes.
|
or Courts a Maid for his Froe,
|
Take her down in her Wedding-Shooes
|
Else 'tis but a Word and Blow.
|
|
FINIS.
|
|
|
|