A Womans Work is never done
Here is a Song for Maids to sing,
Both in the Winter and the Spring;
It is such a pretty conceited thing,
Which will much pleasure to them bring.
Maids may sit still, go, or run,
But a Womans work is never done.
To a delicate Northern Tune, A Womans work is never done, Or, The Beds making.
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AS I was wandring on the way,
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I heard a married Woman say,
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That she had lived a sollid life,
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Ever since the time that she was made a wife.
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For why (quoth she) my Labor is hard,
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And all my pleasures are debarrd:
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Both Morning, Evening, Night and Noon,
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Im sure a Womans work is never done.
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And now (quoth she) I wil relate,
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The manner of my woful Fate;
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And how my self I do bestow,
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As all my Neighbours well do know:
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And therein all that will it hear,
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Unto my song I pray a while give ear;
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Ile make it plainly to appear right soon,
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How that a Womans work is never done.
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For when that I rise up early in the morn,
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Before that I my head with dressings adorn,
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I sweep & cleanse the house as need doth require
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Or if that it be cold, I make a fire:
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Then my Husbands breakfast I must dress,
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To fill his belly with some wholesom mess;
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Perhaps thereof I eat a little or none,
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But Im sure a Womans work is never done.
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Next thing that I in order do,
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My children must be lookt unto;
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Then I take them from their naked beds,
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To put on their clothes and comb their heads:
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And then what hap soever do betide,
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Their breakfast straight I must provide.
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Bread cries my Daughter, and drink my Son,
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And thus a Womans work is never done.
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And when that I have filld their bellies full,
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Some of them I pack away to School,
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All save one sucking Childe, that at my brest
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Doth knaw and bite, and sorely me molest:
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But when I have laid him down to sleep,
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I am constraind the house to keep,
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For then the Pottage-pot I must hang on,
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And thus a Womans work is never done.
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The second Part to the same Tune.
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ANd when my pottage-pot is ready to hoil,
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I must be careful all the while;
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And for to scum the Pot is my desire,
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Or else all the fat will run ith fire.
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But when thleven a clock bell it doth chime,
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Then I know tis near upon dinner time:
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To lay the Table-cloth I then do run,
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And thus a Womans work is never done.
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When dinner time is gone and over-past,
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My Husband he runs out oth doors in haste;
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He scarce gives me a kiss for all that I
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Have dealt and done to him so lovingly.
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Which sometimes grieves me to the heart,
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To see him so clownishly depart:
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But to my first Discourse let me go on,
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To shew a Womans work is never done.
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Theres never a day from morn to night,
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But I with work am tired quite;
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For when the game with me is at the best,
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I hardly in a day take one hours rest:
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Sometimes I knit, and sometimes I spin,
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Sometimes I wash, and somtimes I do wring,
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Sometimes I sit and sowe by my self alone,
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And thus a Womans work is never done.
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In making of the Beds such pains I take,
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Until my back, and sides, and arms do ake;
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And yet my Husband deals so cruelly,
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That he but seldom comes to comfort me.
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And then at night when the clock strikes nine
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My Husband he will say, tis supper time;
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Then presently he must be waited upon,
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And thus a Womans work is never done.
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When Suppers ended to bed we must go,
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You all do know tis fitting it should be so:
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Then do I think to settle all things right,
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In hope that I shall take some rest by night.
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The biggest of my Children together I lay,
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And place them by degrees so well as I may:
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But yet there is a thing to be thought upon,
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For why a Womans work is never done.
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Then if my Husband turns me to the wall,
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Then my sucking Childe will cry and brawl,
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Six or seven times for the brest twil cry,
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And then I pray you judge what rest take I.
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And if at at any time a sleep I be,
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Perchance my Husband wakes, & then wakes me;
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Then he does that to me which I cannot shun,
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Yet I could wish that Work were oftner done.
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All you merry Girles that hear this Ditty,
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Both in the Countrey, and in the City;
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Take good notice of my Lines I pray,
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And make the use of the time you may:
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You see that Maids live more merrier lives,
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Then do the best of married Wives:
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And thus to end my Song as I begun,
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You know a Womans work is never done.
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