A merry new Song:
Whe[r]in is shewed the sorowfull Cudgeling of
the Cobler of Colchester, and the great faulte he committed against his
wife, for the which he suffered hard pennance. To a pleasant new tune
called Trill lill.
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WAlking abroad not long agoe,
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it was my chaunce to spye:
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A Coblers wife with crabbed lookes,
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how she her strength did trye.
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A Cudgell great she had in hand,
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both round and tough withall:
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The which about her husbands pate
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she broke in peeces small.
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So that the man to crye began,
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with voice both sharpe and shrill
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But banging him round about,
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With courage strong and stout,
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have with you my harts trill lill
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His sides she made both black and blew,
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his head and nose did bleede:
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And round about his cobling stoole,
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she made him trot with speed.
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Upon his knees full oft he fell,
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her pardon for to pray:
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But [?] at w[?]k without remorce,
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[?]
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[?]
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To save his [?], [?]
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for feare she would him kill:
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Where banging him round about,
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With courage strong and stout,
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she cryed my hartes trill lill.
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Now fie for shame what doo you meane,
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your husband thus to bang:
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Tis better beare some blowes she saide,
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then [?]e [?] bang[?]
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A Jewell he did break and spoyle,
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which I esteemed deere:
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That I will not forgive the same,
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no not this twenty yeere,
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You [?]eed not blame though I should lame,
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the olde knave for his ill:
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Then banging him round about,
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With courage strong and stout,
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she cried my harts trill lill.
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[?] cleeve me quoth the Cobler then,
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this thing is nothing so:
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For eating of an apple Pye,
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she hath wrought me this woe.
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And tasting of a Custard small,
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which she in store did keepe:
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She hath misusde me as you see,
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and made me thus to weepe.
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And in despight she takes delight,
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to plague me at her will:
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And ever she crieth when on me she flieth,
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have with you my harts trill lill.
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Gwyp with a murrain sir she saide,
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must your olde choppes be fed:
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With Custards and with apple pyes,
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a rope come st[r]etch your head.
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Ile teach you take the Rye brown loafe,
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and know the Essex cheese:
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I [?] for your rotten teeth,
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then any one of these.
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[?]
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Good people quoth the Cobler then,
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I pray you take some paine:
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To take me from my angry wife,
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or els I shall be slaine.
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The proudest scab in place quoth she,
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come doo it if he dare:
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And he shall beare a broken pate,
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from hence by Jisse I sweare.
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With that againe she goes amaine
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to woork on him her will:
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And ever she cryeth as on him she flyeth
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have with y[o]u my harts trill lill.
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Now Cobler quoth this cruell queane
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tell me and doo not lye
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How thou doth like the [?]ting of,
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my [?]nny apple pye.
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O wife saide he thee woorst to me,
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that ever I did taste:
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I will beware while I doo live,
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how I doo make such waste.
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[?]
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[?]
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to course him [?]
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And ever she crieth as on him she flyeth,
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have with you my harts trill lill.
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And though quoth she indifferent well,
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thy carkasse I did [?]umme:
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Yet from thy carnion greedy guts,
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I'le fetch out every crumme.
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With that she did a feather take,
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and in his [t]hroat it thrust:
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Then up he [?] the Apple pye,
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and laid it in the dust.
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The Dog [?]th flee shall eate it free,
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ere thy guts shall fill,
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And ever she cried as on him she flyed,
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have with you my harts trill lill.
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[?]e heere the spitefull nature plaine,
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wherwith she was possest:
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For never was there any man,
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like to the Cobler drest.
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Who made an oath while he did live,
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such wisdome to applye:
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He would take heed how he did eate,
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or touch an apple pye.
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Least with his wife he fell at strife,
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and felt her froward will:
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Who evermore cryeth when on him she flieth
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have with you my harts trill lill.
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