THE
Wanton Maidens Choice.
No Landed Men nor Farmers are for she,
She delights not in that Wealthy Company:
No Taylors, Joyners, Gentle-Craft, or any,
But a thumping Tinker that can pay her Cunny.
Tune is, Hey boys up go we: Or, Alas poor thing.
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I Am a Maid now in my prime,
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and fain I would be wed,
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But ile not have a Ranting Blade,
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to bring him to my Bed:
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Then oft he will be out abroad,
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when he should be at home,
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Then I shall want what is my due
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and be forcd to lye alone.
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Nor ile not have a Free-holder,
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they oft-times go astray,
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Theyl have a Miss besides their Wife,
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and that is but foul play:
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they spend their strength so much abroad
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nothing can be done at home,
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But give me a Lad, if he can be had,
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that will do it at Night and Noon.
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Nor ile not have a Farmer,
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that does wear a clouted Shoo,
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He is so weary all the day,
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with holding of the Plow
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He is no sooner got to Bed,
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but he is fast asleep,
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Such tricks as those they cannot chuse,
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but will make a Woman weep.
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And if I should Marry a Tradesman,
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the case it may be bad,
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For now at hand, Im at a stand,
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to have a lusty Lad:
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For if I should Marry an idle drone,
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and a Fumbler too beside,
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I should be in danger to hang my self,
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that ever I was a Bride.
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If I should have a Black-smith,
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he has a fiery look,
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He often will be Drinking,
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he has a Spark lies in his Throat:
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And then at night he has no power,
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theres nothing to be got,
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God help that Woman I do say,
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that Weds a Drunken Sot.
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Nor Ile not have a Taylor,
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he is too light behind,
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Hel be too hard for me at Cabbidge,
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if he can any find:
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And so I may be famished
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while Cabbidge time doth last,
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Hel have his share, hel never care,
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whether I do eat or fast.
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If I should Wed one of the Gentle-craft
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I should have now and then a touch,
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But if he meet with a pritty Maid,
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and get her in his Clutch,
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Hed like the Soul, and stop the hole,
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and feel the bottom too,
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When I may lye at home poor fool,
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and have nothing for to do.
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Tho the Joyner comes to me I swear,
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he is a cunning man,
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Hel get so far into my Gears,
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ile be careful of the same:
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Yet to be sure, and that is pure,
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if he lay a Maid down on her back,
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Hel have a care, and that is rare,
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she shall have what she does lack.
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But of all the men that here is namd,
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a Mettal-Man for me,
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He shall be welcome day and night,
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into my Company:
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He has a Bag of Tools I swear,
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and bravely he can them use,
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I am made go to t, he needs must dot,
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I can him not refuse.
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