The Hen-peckt Cuckold;
Being a Tallow-Chandlers Sorrowful Lamentation for the Cruelty of
A wanton WIFE.
Tune of, Guinea wins her.
Licensed according to Order.
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YOung Gallants that are single,
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be careful how you marry,
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Least sighs with tears you mingle,
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when you like me miscarry:
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Unto the sower-apple-tree
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I am bound, now farewel liberty,
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the grief I undergo,
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none but my self doth know,
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she does the wanton play,
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I'm Cuckold night and day
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yet I must nothing say,
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O this Wife will make me weary of my life.
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I married her for beauty
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and faith I think i'm fitted;
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She scorns to own her duty,
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am I not to be pittied?
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A man of Fourscore Pounds a Year,
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Yet Kind Neighbours I am nere the near;
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for if I meet a Friend
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I hant a Groat to spend,
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but she'll in Taverns meet
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her Gallants, whom she'll treat,
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whilst I hant food to Eat.
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O this Wife will mak me weary of my life.
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Sometimes I blow the Fire
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with an intent to ease her,
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Believe me, i'm no lyar,
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the Devil cannot please her:
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Perhaps somthing may fall awry,
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Then she'll straightways make the bellows fly:
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or wring me by the Ears,
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she'll not regard my tears;
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for being all alone,
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I dare not sigh nor groan,
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nor say my souls my own.
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O this wife will make me weary of my life.
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One morning she was rising,
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and I was waiting on her,
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A Passion straight she flies in
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for faults which I had done her,
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Because her Slippers I forgot,
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At my head she threw the Chamber-pot
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so dreadful was the Blow,
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that blood began to flow,
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and I aloud did roar,
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but my tormentor swore,
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she'd give me ten times more,
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O this wife, will make me weary of my life.
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There came a Linnen Draper,
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one morning to embrace her,
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And I began to vapour,
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how I did scourge and lace her:
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He swore I should not them molest,
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And with that he lockt me in a chest,
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where close confin'd I lay,
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while he and she did play;
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their sport they did renew,
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which made my heart to rue,
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such Queans there is but few.
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O this wife will make me weary of my life.
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There's lusty Will the Plummer,
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likewise his brother Francis,
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And brawny Dick the Drummer,
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see how each Villain Dances,
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Her Musick gives them all content;
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As for me alas I do lament;
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the Feathers which I wear,
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does to the world declare
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that I am hornify'd;
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Old Nick would not be ty'd
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to such a cursed bride.
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O this wife will make me weary of my life.
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My Grief I cannot smother,
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such is my sad disaster;
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I'll never have another,
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shall be so much my master;
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If Death would be so much my Friend,
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As to bring my Troubles to an end,
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and to take her to the Grave,
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all that I would have;
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so soon as she is Dead,
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I'll mourn in Sack and Red,
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and never more will Wed,
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For this wife will make me weary of my life.
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