The Cuckold's Lamentation
of a Bad WIFE.
He is tormented, and she Tanns his Hide,
He knows not how to live, nor where to abide;
Besides she makes him for to wear the Horn,
And he wishes that he never had been born:
To all young Batchelours now he does declare,
When they goe a Wooing for to have a Care,
There's is many Maids good, but some proves evil,
His Luck was bad, he met with a She-Devil.
To the Tune of The Country Farmer. Or, Why are my Eyes still flow---------ing.
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YOung Batchelours all, come hear this new Song,
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And take warning by me, lest you do your selves wrong
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For I like a Fool must needs go to be Wed,
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To bring a Slut, and a Whore, and a Scold to my Bed;
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Beside she will fight with me every day,
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She is such a devilish Quean, I do say:
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A Man needs no more Sorrow to shorten his Life,
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When he has such hard Fortune to have a bad Wife.
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All day I lye working and taking of pains,
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And she lyes at the Ale-house and spends all the Gains;
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And when I come home and give her a word,
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She'll snap me up short and no comfort afford,
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And then she'll say, Sirrah where is all your Money?
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You have bin with your Whores, and you have left ne'er a penny;
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And then she lets fly that I am weary of my Life,
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Then God help that poor Man that has got such a Wife:
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I complain of my Wedding, and of my bad Life,
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What fortune I had in choosing a Wife;
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If I had sought Hell there had not been such another
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For fighting, and scolding, and swearing together,
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That I am frighted sometimes clear out of my Wit,
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For fear that my Bones they should be sore beat:
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A Man needs no more sorrow to shorten his Life,
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Then God help that poor Man that has got such a Wife.
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On Saturday-night I staid late for my Wage,
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And when I came home my Wife was in a great Rage,
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She wellcom'd me home, but ne'er call'd me Honey,
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But bumbasted me soundly, and call'd for my Money;
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She gave me a slap on the Chops, and put me in a fright,
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That I promise you truly that my Nose is sore yet:
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A Man needs no more sorrow to shorten his Life.
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When he has such hard Fortune to have a bad Wife.
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She makes me a Cuckold when I am at work,
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Her Cullies about her so closely do lurk,
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I may curse the time that e'er I was born,
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That I must be forced now to wear the Horn;
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No, the Horn is not all, but she bangs my Bones sore,
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And when I am in Bed with her, she throws me on the floar
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A Man needs no, etc.
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I cannot sleep quietly, I now will be sworn,
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I am so tormented with the pain of the Horn,
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Therefore honest Batchelors have a great care
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That you never, like me, draw your selves in a Snare;
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For my Wife is so mankin when she sets on
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That I am not able to tame her, let me do what I can:
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A Man needs no, etc.
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She minds nought but Idleness, this is the Truth,
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And to find fault with her I am very loath,
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One day I but speak, and she did begin,
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She took up the Tongs and broke both my shins,
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You Cuckoldy Rogue do you know what you say?
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I will soften your Hide if you prate in that way:
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Did you e'er hear the like, she will shorten my Life,
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God help that poor Man that has got such a Wife.
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When any of her Customers comes to our House,
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I must stand at the back, I dare not say Dun is the Mouse,
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She will be so angry at me, I swear,
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That I am ready to bepiss my Breeches for fear;
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And if I do not carry my Cup then upright
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Lamb-pye I must have to my Supper that night:
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I am so tormented I am weary of my Life,
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God help that poor Man that has got such a Wife.
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And now to conclude, you have heard my Distress,
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My Fortune was bad, all this I confess,
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And Batchelors all take warning by me,
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Some Women are dangerous Cattel you see;
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For I am Hen-peckt to the sight of my Friends,
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And have nothing but Blows to make me amends:
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I am so tormented I am weary of my Life,
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God help that poor Man that has got such a Wife.
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