The Cuckcoo of the Times.
Since Cuckcoo is but what mans born to, certain
The faults not in the Woman, but his Fortune:
The Cuckcoo therefore hopes to please your mind,
And says it comprehends evn all Mankind.
To the Tune of, The Wandring Jews Chronicle.
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TOM Tinkers Wife Joan Ruggles sat,
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Under a Hedge doing you know what,
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mark that which doth ensue;
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A Bird upon an Oaken Spray,
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It was no Chattering Pye, nor Jay,
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Sung merrily Cuckoo.
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I was as Ages will Record,
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In former times a great Earls Bird,
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that Lord that could not doo;
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Who though unfit for Cupids Laws,
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Was Stallion to the good old Cause,
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Which makes me sing Cuckoo.
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Although he could not frisk and Jerk,
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He got a thousand Bearns oth Kirk,
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fine werk that he did brew;
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Yet he was Cuckold in his Mate,
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By Bradshaw and Crumwel ith State,
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When England Sung Cuckoo.
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You Buxome Dames of Sanguin breed,
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That must have Morsels at your need,
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take heed what ere you doe;
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whilst youth bewitch you, old ones watch you
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Beware or they will catch you, catch you,
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Who hate my Song Cuckoo.
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The Second Part, to the same Tune.
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The Shop-keeper that trades for gain,
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And Merchant who doth cross the Main,
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great wealth he doth persue;
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The one ith shop, though something strange
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The other whilst hes at the Change,
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May Sing with me Cuckoo.
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Souldiers of Fortune and Renown,
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Whose valour does their actions crown,
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this fate sometimes persue,
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Phisitians too that live at ease,
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Can find no cure for this Disease,
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But Sing with me Cuckoo.
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Both rich and poor, both high and low,
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All sorts the Cuckoos Note do know,
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Gentry and Commons too,
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The Country Lad that goes to Plow,
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May find the Antlers on his Brow,
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That makes him Sing Cuckoo.
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Red Letter men they did design
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Both Church and State to undermine,
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damd Plots they did persue;
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But thanks to God by happy fate,
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Themselves blew up, and not the State,
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Theyl Sing with me Cuckoo.
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Another sort as bad or worse,
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Gaze in your face and pick your Purse,
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yet theyl cry Whore first too;
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On others they would lay the blame,
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Whilst they are doing of the same,
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Yet they may Sing Cuckoo.
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Jove hath his Eagles in the Skies,
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Juno hath her Peacock deckt with Eyes,
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gay Toys, give them their due;
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Venus her Doves, Minervas Foul,
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Is the King Harrys Groat-facd Owl,
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And I the poor Cuckoo.
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Bacchus Canary, old Pan the Lark,
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Pluto his Ravens that shriek ith dark,
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but mark what doth ensue;
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Of all these Fowls none bears the Bell,
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For Sprightly Notes like Philomel,
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And I who Sing Cuckoo.
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A Lawyer he did throw a Stone,
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Quoth he, I hate thy Ugly Tone,
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be gone, and then cryd Shoo;
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Thou breakst the City peace, go pack,
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Ile clap a Warrant on thy back,
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But still she Sung Cuckoo.
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Luna they say is Populus,
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And we a Moon, as they to us,
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if thus, and it be true,
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Why should the Court make Citts the scorn[s,]
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Since all things here below wears Horns
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All Nations Sing Cuckoo.
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Neptune is Hornd by th Delian Knight,
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Who plays at Put with Amphetrite,
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each night the Trick they do;
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Mars Cuckolds Vulcan Mamon Mars,
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Monys the Nervs and Horns of Wars,
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The Souldier Sings Cuckoo.
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A brisk young Lady she took pitty,
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Approving of her merry Ditty,
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twas witty and twas true;
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Dwell with me Tell-troth of the Age,
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Ile keep thee in a Golden Cage,
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Where thou shalt Sing Cuckoo.
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