THE
Miserable Maulster:
OR,
The Kentish Man's Cruelty,
Who, in a Passion Dismember'd himself, to the unspeakable
Grief of his Loving Wife, and Kind Friends.
To the Tune of, Fond Boy, Or, Loves a sweet Passion.
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A Maulster that liv'd in the County of Kent,
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Had a Delicate Movement his Wife to content,
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But one day in a passion he Cut off the same,
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I must tell you, for this he was highly to blame,
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His good wife with sorrow she looks like one Dead,
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And declares she had rather he'd Cut off his Head.
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It was so unruly, that every day,
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The Goodman was in danger of running a stray,
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It would commonly leap into other mens ground,
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Now for fear he at last should be put in the pound,
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He did whip it quite off, and without fear or Dread,
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But his wife she had rather he'd Cut off his Head,
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Then she a New Husband perhaps might have had,
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To have chear'd up her spirits and made heart glad,
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But as long as he lives, she is like to have none,
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Therefore has she just cause to make pittiful moan:
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Oh she wishes each night as she lyes in her Bed,
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That instead of that branch he had Cut off his Head.
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They say that there was not a better in Hide,
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Nor in all the whole County or Kingdom beside,
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Many Years the good Woman the same had Injoy'd,
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But alas after all it is clearly destroy'd,
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Now she wishes each Night as she lyes in her Bed,
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That instead of that Branch he had Cut off his Head.
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There was an Old Women that liv'd in the Town,
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Straight she pull'd out a Purse, ay, & proffer'd a crown
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For to have it sow'd on again if it might,
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For 'tis pitty to lose such a Curriel, quoth she,
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For with that the Wifes pleasures is utterly fled,
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Therefore he had been better if he'd Cut off his Head.
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She put on her Spectacles meaning to try,
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For to sow it her self, while in Bed he did lye,
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Yet alas all her labour did prove but in vain,
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For it could not be fasten[e]d together again,
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Then in sorrow she left him to lye in his Bed,
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And declar'd he had better he'd Cut off his Head.
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This was a Rich Jewel far better than Gold,
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For when ever the Womon did happen to Scold,
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It would strait beat a Parly of pleasure for Peace,
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But alas it is gone, now her griefs so increase,
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Now she wishes each night as she lyes in her Bed,
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That instead of that Branch he had Cut off his Head
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Since this is a Branch which he cannot repair,
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It is reason and fit that this Maulster should wear,
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All the days of his life a strong Night Cap of Horn,
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Thus the Women and Wenches all laugh him to scorn
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Ever since that same time such a life he has lead,
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That he wishes indeed he had Cut off his Head.
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Some Women come to him and merrily joke,
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Saying, prithee sweet Neighbour come play us a stroak
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But the man is not able and that they all know,
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And besides when along in the Town he does go,
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Oh! the scoffs of the woman this Maulster does dread,
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For they tell him 'twere better he'd Cut off his head.
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He once had the love of Young Women indeed,
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When it lay in his power their fancies to feed,
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But yet nevertheless since he's lost his good Geer,
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Not a Wench of them all will his presence come near,
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But to scoff at the man; thus his comforts are fled,
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For they tell him 'twere better he'd Cut off his head.
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