The Dumb Maid,
Or, The Young Gallant Trappand.
A Young Man did unto Her a wooing come,
But She pretended much that she was Dumb;
But when they both in Marriage-bands were tyed,
The Doctors Skill was likewise with Her tryed:
The Doctor set her Tongue upon the Run,
She Clatters now, and never will have done.
To be sung with a pleasant New Tune, called, Dum, dum, dum,
OR, I would I were in my own Countrey.
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ALL you that pass along,
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give ear unto my Song,
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Concerning a Youth
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that was young, young, young:
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And of a Maiden fair.
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Few with her might compare,
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But alack, and alace, she
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was Dum, dum, dum.
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She was beautious, fresh, and gay,
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Like the pleasant flowers in May.
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And her Cheeks was as round
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as a Plum, plum, plum:
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She was neat in every part,
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And she stole away his heart,
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But alacke, and alace, she
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was Dum, dum, dum.
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At length this Country Blade,
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Wedded this pretty Maid,
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And he kindly Conducted
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her home, home, home:
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Thus in her Beautie bright,
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Lay all his whole delight,
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But alack, and alace, she
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was Dum, dum, dum.
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Now will I plainly show
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What work this Maid could do,
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Which a Patern might be
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for Girls young, young, young:
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O she both day and night,
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In working took delight,
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But alack, and alace, she
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was Dum, dum, dum.
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She could Brew and she could Bake.
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She could wash, wring, and shake,
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She could sweep the House
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with a Broom, broom, broom:
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She could Knit, and Sow, and spin,
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And do many such like thing,
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But alack, and alace, she
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was Dum, dum, dum.
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But at last this man did go,
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The Doctors skill to know,
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Saying, Sir can you cure
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a Woman of the Dum:
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O it is the easiest part
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That belongs unto my Art,
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For to cure a Woman,
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of the Dum, dum, dum.
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To the Doctor he did her bring,
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And he cut her chattering string,
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And he set her Tongue on
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the run, run, run:
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In the morning he did rise,
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And she fill'd his house with cryes,
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And she rattled in his ears
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like a Drum, drum, drum.
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To the Doctor he did go,
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With his heart well fill'd with woe,
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Crying Doctor I am
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undone, done, done:
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Now she's turn'd a scolding Wife,
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And I am weary of my Life,
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For I cannot make her hold
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her Tongue, tongue, tongue.
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The Doctor thus did say,
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When she went from me away,
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She was perfectly Cured of
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the Dum, dum, dum:
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But it's beyond the Art of man,
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Let him do the best he can,
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For to make a scolding Woman
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hold her tongue, tongue, tongue.
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So as you to me came,
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Return you back again,
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And take you the Oyl,
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of Hazel strong:
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With it anoynt her body round,
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When she makes the house to sound,
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So perhaps ye may charm
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her tongue, tongue, tongue.
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