Womens Work is never done,
OR THE
CROWN GARLAND,
Of Princely Pastime and Mirth,
the Woman has the worst of
it; or her Work is never done.
The Tune of, The Doubting Virgin.
|
OH that I had never been marrie[d]
|
since I lead a careful life.
|
Things with me are strangely carri[ed]
|
now I am become a wife,
|
While that he doth take his pleasure,
|
lest he should to ruine run:
|
Here I labour out of measure,
|
womens work is never done.
|
Was I one that e're did slight him,
|
then he might some reason have,
|
But I labour to delight him,
|
ever seek to get and save.
|
Never spending, always sparing
|
lest he should to ruine run;
|
Mending, making, thus repairing
|
womens work is never done,
|
Here I look to my habitation,
|
Whiles in troubles to and fro:
|
There is no Woman in the Nation,
|
doth such sorrows undergo:
|
Carding, Spinning, I do my endeavour
|
never resting till the Web is spun,
|
I must at length go to the Weaver,
|
womens work will never be done.
|
He each night doth reel and stagger,
|
coming from his drunken Crew,
|
Nay, and over me will swagger,
|
tho I all the Work must do.
|
When he in his Chair is sitting,
|
when he calls me then I run,
|
I make him Cordials that are fitting
|
womens work is never done.
|
Ne're had a woman such a wedding,
|
I in sorrows am opprest,
|
Yet I bring him to his Lodging,
|
where all night he takes his rest;
|
It is known that he lyes fairly,
|
while Eleven, Twelve, or One,
|
I must be up late and early
|
womens work is never done.
|
In the Field I am expected,
|
for to milk my Cattel there,
|
For it must not be neglected,
|
thus I make my constant care.
|
Tho I am both wet and weary,
|
I must to my labour run,
|
Serve my Hog, and tend my Dairy,
|
womens work is never done.
|
If I am from home an hour,
|
I must surely bear the blame.
|
For my Husband he will lower,
|
all the house is out of Frame,
|
I can have but little quiet,
|
for my Daughter and my Son,
|
Calls upon me for their Dyet.
|
womens work is never done.
|
|
|
|
|
|