Great NEWS from a
Parliament of Women,
Now Sitting in Rosemary-Lane,
Mother-Damnable the Labourers Wife being Chair-Woman of this Assembly.
To the Tune of Hey-Boys up go We: Or Genny Gynn.
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THrough London streets as I did pass,
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I met with a Jovial Crew,
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I askt the people what they was
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Mother-Damnable was there too.
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They told me they were a Parliament,
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And was going for to sit,
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To Rosemary-Lane they all was sent,
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They thought that place most fit.
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Mother-Damnable Speaks.
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Ladies all I will begin
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I pray let me be bold,
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I verily think it is no sin,
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A Parliament for to hold,
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That we thereby some Laws may make,
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For all the Women Ken,
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At the thoughts thereof my heart doth ake,
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And pity all Foolish Men.
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My Husband he is grown a Sot,
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I can't tell what to do,
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He nothing minds, but Pipe and Pot,
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And can't give me my due;
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When he's in Bed, he falls a sleep,
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Then I am very sad,
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Therefore a Friend I'le keep,
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He'l make my heart full glad.
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Enters Mrs. Tireman, Mrs. Tattel, Mrs.
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Rattle-pate, Jane Fall-down, and Sarah
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Hold-up, two Sister, Dorothy Do-little, and
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Tagg the Masons Wife, with several Hundreds
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more coming with weeping Tears to make their
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Complaints.
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Our Husbands they are Foolish grown,
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They are very bad of late,
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Let us now make use of our own
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Else we may Curse our Fate;
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Our Teeming time we are like to loose,
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To us they are unkind,
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We will no more be made such Fools,
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We'l seek to please our mind.
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If by chance we take a turn,
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Our Husbands calls us Whore,
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At which it makes our minds to burn,
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And long Revenge therefore.
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We'l have our wills in spight of them,
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We count it no great sin,
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Come let us Sport, and Kiss, and Sing,
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And play at In and In.
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What shall we do? we here complain
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Against our Husbands too,
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They make us Cry and Weep amain,
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Nothing they will then do:
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Then grant us all a License here,
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That we may Sport and Play,
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And Kiss our Friend without any fear,
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By Night or else by Day.
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If they do prate, then we will glout,
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Let them say what they will,
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If they do Curse, then we will pout,
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And say that we are ill.
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Then they will run and fetch some Sack,
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Thinking to make us well,
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'Tis something else that we do lack,
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Which will make our Bellies swell.
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Enters Mother-Damnables Sister the
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Washer-Woman, Joan the Tub-Woman, and
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Dorothy the Chimney Sweepers Wife, al-
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most dead with Grief, and Goody Tittle Tat-
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tle, and Bandy Bess almost Mad.
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My heart is almost dead with grief,
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My Husband he is strange,
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He will not give me any relief,
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But with other Women Range.
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Ten pound at a time he then will give,
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To Women for to play,
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At the thoughts of this I scarce can live,
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truth what I do say.
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Then Bandy Bess runs in a main,
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And against the Speaker braules,
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Let me sit in the Chair again,
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And I will please you all:
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Mother-Damnable hearing what was said,
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Out of the Chair she gets,
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Discovering all the tricks she plaid,
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Away she goes and frets.
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So at the last they did agree,
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And call'd them in together,
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That they should have Husbands three,
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Because they are Birds of a Feather;
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And at these words they all were glad,
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And fell a Dancing there,
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They all do swear, they won't be sad,
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But will drink good Ale and Beer.
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