EBBA 30111
British Library - Roxburghe
Ballad XSLT Template
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All is ours and our
HUSBANDS, Or the Country Hostesses
VINDICATION.
She durst not Scold tis counted for an Evil.
Sheel cheat and whore, and yet be counted civil;
Sheel fill her Pockets by poor Drunkards Losses,
And send them all to Jayl by weeping Crosses.
To the Tune, of the Carmans Whistle, Or High Boys up go we.
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COme all you Tribes of Hostises,
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That Women against do rail,
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Come lend me some of your advice
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Their glamorous Tongues to quail;
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And I will make it plain appear
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By nothing but what is true,
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That all that we get in the Year
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Is nothing but whats our Due.
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For if an honest Compay
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Of boon good fellows come:
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And call for Liquor merrily
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In any private Room:
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Then if I fill the Juggs with Froth
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Or cheat them of one or two
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If I can swear them out of both
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The Reckoning is my due.
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Or if a shurking Fellow come
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That have no mony at all
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And take up any of my Room
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And for my Liquor call:
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Then if I take away their Coat
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Let it be old or new:
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Or worth a Crown more than thee shot,
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Tis nothing but whats my Due.
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And some their are that are so bold,
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To swear that I must trust,
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When once my drink they have they think
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That then be sure we must:
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From such the Court or common Law,
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What ?ere their Wives insue
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Shall make their Arse to lye in Straw
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Their Beedding is all my due.
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My Husband must not Plow or Cart,
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Or work like other Men:
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My Children must not learn the art
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To either Card or Spin?
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My Tapster must live fine and brave
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For he of one make two
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And many a Groat for me he save
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Tis nothing etc.
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But I must have another way
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Our livings for get,
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And when you hear Im sur youl say
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Tis nothing but what is fit:
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If Tap should fayl toot go the Tail
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The Proverb old is true,
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If half a piece come to my Fleece
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?Tis nothing etc.
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Perhaps our Husbands would repine,
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If they of this should know
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And think our little Babes divine
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Were got in Cuckolds Row
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You know their gains come by the pains
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Of only me and you,
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They must not scorn to wear the horn
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Tis nothing etc.
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Come Neighbours drink with one consent
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A lusty Bowl of Wine
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Twill break our Hearrs of discontent
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And make our Noses shine:
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Each took the Cup and drank it up
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And swore sheed spoken true
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And vowd to have the tother Sup
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Before they bid her adieu.
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Then I that heard the Verdict past
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How this base cheating Crew,
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Consented all both first and last
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To make make poor Drunkards Rue;
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I took my Pen and writ this Song
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And to the Drunkards send it
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That they with me may strive to see;
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Their wicked Life and mend it.
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Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden Ball in Pye-Corner
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