A
Rare new Ballad,
Entituled
My Husband has no Courage
in Him
To it's own proper Tune.
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INTO a morning as I went abroad,
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even for to see the Flowers a springing,
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In every bush there sate a Bird,
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changing their notes were sweetly singing;
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Casting my eye when I did espy
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a maiden fair, and her hands a wringing,
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She often cryed, and still replyed,
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my Husband has no Courage in him.
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At night when I go to my Bed,
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thinking to get some Venus sporting,
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No sleep at all goes in my head,
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my Husband lyes by me a Snorting;
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Yet often times I tickle him;
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he cannot choise, but know my meaning,
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And with my heels I rubb his shins,
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Yet I can put no courage in him.
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My husband he is a tall young man,
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he is a lad both fair and proper,
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With a handsome leg and well made foot
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who gallantly can weild a raper;
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He can caper, dance, and sing;
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which makes the Ladies dearly love him;
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But yet he wants the chiefest thing,
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my Husband has no courage in him.
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All sorts of dyets I do provide,
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because I do so dearly love him
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But yet he wants the chiefest thing,
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my Husband has no courage in him.
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All sorts of dyets I do provide,
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from slumbering sleep for to awake him;
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Yolks of Eggs, and Ringo roots,
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yet I can put no courage in him.
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Oyster pyes
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and Marrow
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bones, etc.
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And if he do not mend in time,
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I swear I'le wait no longer on him;
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Hoping his Neighbours will be so kind,
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as to make a Cuckold of him.
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All ye young Maids that Husbands want,
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take heed to me before you wed him;
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Least ye should sing along with me,
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my Husband has no courage in him.
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