The Woman to the Plow
AND
The Man to the Hen-Roost.
OR, a fine way to cure a Cot-Quean,
The Tune is, I have for all good wives a Song.
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BOth Men and Women listen well,
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A merry Jest I will you tell,
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Betwixt a Good man and his Wife,
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Who fell the other day at strife:
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He chid her for her Huswivery,
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And she found fault as well as he
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With him fors work without the doors,
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Quoth he, a pox on all such whores,
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Sith you and I cannot agree,
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Lets change our work, content, quoth she,
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My Wheel and Distafe here take thou,
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And I will drive the Cart and Plow.
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This was concluded twixt them both,
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To Cart and Plow the good-wife goeth
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The goodman he at home doth tarry,
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To see that nothing doth miscarry,
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An apron he before him put,
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Judge was not this a hansome slut.
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He fleets the Milk, he makes the Chese
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He gropes the Hens the ducks & Geese,
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He Brew and Bakes as well as he can,
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But not as it should be done, poor man:
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As did make his Cheese one day,
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Two Pigs their Bellies broke with whey,
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Nothing that he in hand did take,
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Did come to good, once he did Bake,
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And burnt the Bread as black as a stock
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Another time he went to Rock
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The Cradle, an[d] threw the Child o th floor
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And broke his Nose, and hurt it sore.
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He went to milk one Evening tide,
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A Skittish Cow on the wrong side,
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His pail was full of milk God wot,
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She kict and spilt it every jot,
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Besides she hit him a blost o th face
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Which was scant well in six weeks space,
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Thus was he served, and yet to well
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And m[o]re mischances yet befell,
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Before his apron hed leave off,
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Though all his Neighbours did him sc[o]ff,
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Now list and mark one pretty jest,
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Twill make you laugh above all the rest,
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As he to churm his Butter went,
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One Morning with a good intent,
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The Cot-quean fool did surely dream,
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For he had quite forgot the Cream,
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He Churnd all day, with all his might,
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And yet he could get no Butter at night,
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TWere strange indeed for me to utter
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That without Creame he should make butter
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now having shewd his huswivery,
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Who did all things thus untowardly,
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Unto the good-wife Ile turn my Rhime,
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And tell you how she spent her time,
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She usd to drive the Cart and Plow,
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But dot well she knew not how,
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She made so many banks i th ground,
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He been better have given five pound,
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That she had never tane in hand,
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So sorely she did spoil the Land,
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As she did go to Sow likewise,
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She made a Feast for Crows and Pies,
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She threw away a hanful at a place,
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And left all bare another space,
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At the Harrow she could not rule the Mare
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But hid one Land, and left two bare.
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And shortly after one a day
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As she came home with a Load of Hay,
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She overthrew it nay and worse,
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She broke the Cart and killd a Horse:
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The good-man that time had ill luck,
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He let in the Sow and killd a Duck,
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And being grieved at his heart
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For loss ons Duck, his Horse and Cart,
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The many hurts on both sides done,
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His eyes did with salt water run:
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Then now, quoth he, full well I see,
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The Wheels for her the Plows for me,
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I the intreat, quoth he, good-wife,
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To take thy Charge, and all my life
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Ile never meddle with huswivery more,
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Nor find such faults as I did before,
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Give me the Cart-whip and the Frail
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Take thou the Churn and milking pail.
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The good wife she was well content,
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And about her Huswivery, she went.
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He to Hedging and to Ditching,
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Heaping, Mowing, Lading, Pitching,
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He would be twa[t]ling still before,
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But after that ner twatled more.
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I Wish all Wives that troubled be,
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With Hose and Doublet Huswivery,
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To [se]rve t[h]em as this woman did.
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Th[e]n ma[y] they work and ner be chid,
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Thoug[h] she ith intrim had some loss,
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Thereby she was eas[e]d of a Cross,
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Take heed of this you husband-men,
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Let Wives alone to grope the Hen,
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And meddle you with the Horse and Ox
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And keep your Lambs safe from the Fox,
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So shall you live Contented lives,
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And take sweet pleasure in your Wives.
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