An Excellant Mew SONG [Call'd],
THE
Quakers Lamentation
FOR
The loss of his Ding-Dangs.
Tune of The Old Man's Wish.
With Allowance
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DEar Friends behold a Brother most sad,
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For loosing my Ding Dangs makes me mad,
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Jealousie had lik'd to cost me Life,
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Oh that I ne're had known a Wife.
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When a Sister once my Wife had been,
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I thought she'd had the Light within,
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But instead thereof I had a hard Fate,
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For Horns I fear'd was on my Pate.
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Oh what a hard Case it is indeed,
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When Two of the Spirit chance to Wed;
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Then One to fall off and imbrace the Flesh,
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Is not this a most pittious Case.
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This run in my Head and vexed me sore,
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Poor Quaker was never so serv'd before;
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For Ease of my Mind not making of Moan,
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Without more adoe I whipt off my S---- [?],
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'Twas a Razor gave the Fatal Stroke,
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Now what will Jenny do for a Cloke,
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Do for a Cloke when her Belly does swell,
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By Yea and by Nay I cannot tell.
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If Jenny shall have any Children now,
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The Case will be plain which way and how,
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For what I can do she may lye alone,
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No good she can have the Vertue is gone.
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But that which Troubles me most of all,
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My Ding-Dangs now I cannot recall,
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I cannot recall the Pleasure again,
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Which oft times I have had with them.
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Nay more then that I dare not go out,
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For the Wicked they do [?]ear and Flout,
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They call me Fumbling Quaker withall,
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And Swear I can do nothing at all.
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When to the Meeting-House I am got,
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Tho a Spiritual Place Ile tell thee what,
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The Sanctifi'd Si[stt]ers stare in my Face,
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Then Smile at each other with Disgrace.
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I cannot Converse with Women Kind,
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But streightways they declare their mind,
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And say that I am not fit to Live,
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For Cuting off that my Wife should have.
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Oh that I had my Tools again,
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Tho a Cuckold I was nere so plain;
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If the Wicked has the thing not done,
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The Child may be a hopefull Son.
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Now Jenny I do Grieve full sore,
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To think that I shall nere do more;
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If to Live without thou must be Sick,
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Pray let a Brother do the Trick.
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Now to the Brethron of the North,
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I mean those that use the Bull and Mouth,
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Dont Cut off your Tools as I have done.
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Youl hang your selves when they are gone.
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The Sisters too I do advise,
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In all your Breathings to be Wise,
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Nere let your Mates know what you do,
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Least Whipping Work falls on them to.
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