Catologue of Contented Cuckolds:
OR, A
Loving Society of Confessing Brethren of the Forked Order, etc. who being met together in a Tavern,
declard each Man his Condition, resolving to be contented, and drownd Melancholly in a Glass of Necktar.
To the Tune of, Fond Boy, etc. or, Loves a sweet Passion, etc.
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FUll ten honest Tradesmen did happen to meet,
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In a Tavern, it seems, about Leaden-hall-street;
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One a Brewer, a Baker, a Cook, and a Taylor;
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With a Turner, a Gold-smith, a Merchant, a Sayler;
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Nay, a Doctor, a Surgeon which opens the vein:These was good honest Tradesmen, all Cuckolds in grain.
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My Wife, quoth the Brewer, is charming and fair,
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She will ramble a broad, but I never know where;
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Yet at midnight sometimes she returns with a Spark;
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Nay, I sometimes have found her at Put in the dark:Yet I swear by this Glass of rich sparkling Wine,
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I will now be contented, and never repine.
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The Baker, he cryd, There is Robin my man,
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He will play with his Dame, let me do what I can;
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Once I happend to catch him in Bed by her side,
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Youd a laught to have seen how I liquord his hide:
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But I swear by this Glass of rich sparkling Wine,
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I will now be contented, and never repine.
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The Cook he cryd out, I am none of the least,
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For when ever I go to a Dinner, or Feast,
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There is brawny young William, the Poulterers Man,
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He will kiss my sweet Wife for a Sop in the Pan:
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Yet I swear by this Glass of rich spa[r]kling Wine,
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I will now be contented, and never repine.
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The Taylor sat sighing and scratching his ears,
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Quoth he, I have been Cuckoldd this three or four Years,
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By a Saylesman who gave my sweet wife her Silk-gown,
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When he comes up my stairs, I am forcd to go down:
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It cannot be avoided, Ill swear by this Wine,
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But Ill now be contented, and never repine.
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In troth, quoth the Turner, tis my very Case,
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For when her Gallant comes I am forcd to give place,
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To my work straight I go where I labour and toyl,
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And I leave him to turn up my wife the mean while;
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But my pocket with Geneas of Gold he doth [l]ine,
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Therefore Ill be contented, and never repine.
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O, then, said the Goldsmith, pray hear my complaint,
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Sirs, I marryd a Quaker she seemd like a Saint,
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Yet a Horn to the World I have reason to blow,
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O the innocent Lamb has a dark way to go:Yet I swear by this Glass of rich sparkling Wine,I will now be contented, and never repine.
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The Merchant he [c]ryd, When I go to the Change,
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Wi[t]h a Master of Musick my Lady will range,
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To the Tavern, and thereon her Lute he must play,She may dance, but Im sure I the Musick must pay
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With my Treasure his pockets she often will line,
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Yet contented Ill be, tis in vain to repine.
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The Saylor cryd, Brothers, hear me if you please,
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Three or four Years together I ploughd the rough Seas,
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In my abscence my Wife had a Daughter and Son,
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And I found a great Panyer as big as a Gun:I cryd out, My sweet Nancy faith this is fine?Be contented, said she, tis in vain to repine.
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Come, come, said the Docter, the best of us all
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Cannot be our Wives Keepers, they are subj[e]ct to fall;
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Friends by woful Experience I speak it indeed,
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I have one that will help a kind Friend at his need:Yet I swear by this Glass of rich sparkling wine,
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I will now be contented, and never repine.
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The Surgeon he cryd, Sirs, Ill tell you a jest,
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For Im sure I am a Cuckold as well as the best:Once I followd my Wife and her Spark to Horn-fair,Where I took them both napping as Moss catcht his Mare,
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He was letting her Blood near the Leg and the Loyn;
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I was almost Horn-mad, I began to repine.
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Since we are ten Cuckolds here all on a row,
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We will drink each a Bottle b[e]fore we do go,
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For to drown Melancholly in liquor of Life;
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Hes a fool that will weep for the Sins of his Wife;
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Let us tipple Canary, and never complain,
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There is better than we that are Cuckolds in grain.
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