Wit never ought, till it be bought; & then it is stark nought.
OR The Spendthrifts Recantation.
That spent his Means in such a wastful fashion
He sold his land & goods & let his mony fly,
Come fill us in ten dozen what care I
He neither cares for Children nor for Wife
So long as mony could be got he lives that life,
Now at last that he has spent his store
He does repent his wastful life before;
He works & takes great pains now all his Life,
For to maintain his Children and his Wife;
He desires that he an example be to all
And every one take warning by his fall.
The Tune of the Bad Husband's Folly, or,
Come hither my own sweet Duck.
|
OF all the spendthrifts in this Land
|
I am the worst you see
|
If you do but understand
|
To take warning all by me
|
A Man may be a good fellow
|
And not to make away all
|
To mind the Beer so much in the Celler,
|
That hath brought Me to this thrall,
|
But if ever I do get money again
|
I will save some in store,
|
To keep better Cloaths upon my back
|
I never will go so poor.
|
That Man thats always drinking
|
Amongst the drunken Crue
|
His estate must needs be sinking
|
Without any more ado;
|
That I might be an example
|
To all that go astray,
|
That every Man may mend his life
|
And be warn'd by me this day
|
For If ever I do get mony again. etc.,
|
I had a fine Estate of Land of my one
|
Was worth fifty pound a year
|
That my Father he did leave me
|
For I was his only Heir,
|
I sold and I morgaged it all away
|
And made myself so poor,
|
My Wife and my Friends could not rule me
|
I kept drinking on so sore
|
But if ever I do get mony again, etc.
|
I came unto my Hostess
|
And call'd for liquor apace
|
She saw my money was plenty
|
Then she smiled in my Face,
|
If I said fill a Flagon
|
She set two upon the score
|
She slaber'd and kis't and sate on my Knee,
|
A Pox on her then for a Whore.
|
But if ever I do get mony again
|
I will save some in store,
|
To keep better Cloathes upon my back,
|
I never will go so poor.
|
|
|
|
|
The second Part to the same Tune.
|
I rambled up and down
|
And I let my mony fly
|
While my Wife was ready to break her heart
|
To hear her Children cry
|
For she was almost pin'd and starv'd
|
Their want it was so sore,
|
And their nakedness they scarce could hide
|
Their poverty was so poor
|
But if ever I do get money again, etc.
|
At two a clock i'th morning
|
I would come drunken home
|
If my Wife but chance to speak a word
|
I would kick her about the room
|
And call her Bitch and Whore
|
I'de abuse my one dear Wife
|
I was a Villain for my pains
|
To live such a wicked life
|
But if ever I do get mony again
|
The I got a Surfit and lay sick
|
And lay twenty weeks and more
|
But never an Alewife in my need
|
Would come within my door,
|
But my poor Wife was my best Friend
|
Tho I had been bad with her before
|
She suckered me unto the end
|
And of me she took great care
|
But if I get strength and Money again,
|
My Wife she sold the Sheets from her Bed,
|
And she pawn'd he Wedding Ring
|
To releive me in my Misery
|
To get my Health agen,
|
O was not I woful Man
|
To spend away my store
|
To let my Wife & Children want at home,
|
I was a knave therefore,
|
If ever I do get money again.
|
When I began get strength to mend a little
|
I walkt to take the air,
|
And as I went along the Town
|
I came by my Hostises door
|
I askt her for to trust me two pence
|
But she deny'd me like a Whore,
|
The mony that I have spent with her
|
Doth grieve me very sore
|
if ever I do get mony again
|
As soon as I get my Health again
|
I'le call to work apace
|
To maintain my Wife and Children
|
For my Hostises are base
|
I see who is a Mans best Friend
|
If he be sick or sore
|
They'l draw a Man to consume his means
|
Then after they do not care
|
If ever I do get money again, etc,
|
If I get any thing under my hand again.
|
I'le learn to be more wise
|
I'le never be rul'd by the drunken Crew
|
That tickled me up with lyes
|
And carry my money home to my Wife,
|
To mend my Childrens fare
|
I have paid for my wit to mend my Life,
|
For to have a better Care.
|
If I do get money again.
|
He runs a long race that never has end
|
Good People understand
|
Let every one be rul'd by their Friend,
|
I say quite through this Land
|
For wilful wast comes often to want
|
With me and a great many more
|
But the greatest grief I have wronged my wife
|
Which troubles me wonderous sore
|
If ever I do get money again,
|
And so i'le have you understand
|
Good People every one
|
I lost my time and spent my money
|
The more I was to blame
|
But yet I wish all others may
|
Take warning now by me
|
Here is a Groatsworth of wit if ye look in it
|
Come buy this Ballad and see,
|
If ever I do get money again,
|
I wlll save some in Store
|
And keep a better House & Cloaths on our backs
|
I will never live so poor.
|
|
|
|
|