A pleasant new Ditty: entitled, 
Though rich golden Booties your luck was to catch,  
Your last was the best, cause you met with your match.   
To the tune of, I know what I know.  

 

A Rich wealthy Bachelor thirty and odd,  
Had now a new crotchet crept into his pate:  
A wife he must have, whatsoever betid,  
And well lined with Rubbish to enrich his state.   

Fair Maidens were offered him, two, three, and four,  
Sufficient men's Daughters, with money to boot,  
Yet his greedy mind did still gape after more,  
For he said 'twas too little for him to go to ' te.   

His means did afford him three hundred a year,  
And three bonny Lasses had thousands apéece,  
Yet for it and them he a pin did not care,  
Though one of them was to a Gentleman Niece.   

Shall I for a paltry poor thousand pound,  
A young wench go marry with nothing but breed,  
Consume me in longings, in fashions, and toys,  
●o, yet it is time, and I now will take heed.   

Where is a brisk Widow that dwelleth hard by,  
In money hath ten thousand pounds at the least,  
I'll spruce myself up then incontinently,  
And to her I'll go as a shutering Gest.   

This Bachelor soon did attain his desire,  
The day was appointed when they should be wed,  
His youthful fair Brioe was but threescore and ten,  
For she had but a tooth and a half in her head.   

Some three or four years did this bonny Lass live,  
Then grim goodman death took her life clean away,  
And grief for her loss had the man almost sped,  
But that a new Widow his journey did stay.   

His wife being buried, next morning he went,  
Another spruce Widow again for to see,  
Where mounted on Crutches he strait one espied,  
Who in state of riches was better than she.   

His Mother's smock sure did this Widower wear,  
For no sooner wood but he presently sped,  
A Licence he fetched, and he married her strait,  
Then she threw down her Stilts, & she hobbled to bed.   

Not full ten years older than was his last wife,  
Was this same dried mummy that lay by his side,  
With snorting and grunting she aired so the Bed,  
That never had Groom such a night by a Bride.   

But still did her money perfume all again,  
And in a month after she bedrid did lie.  
Seven Winters and Summers she lay at sutall east,  
And then she departed because she must dye.   

Five hundred a year she augmented his state,  
Ten thousand pound clear by the other he got,  
Mean time of another spruce Widow he heard,  
Then he prayed unto jove that she might be his lot.    

The second part,  
To the same tune.  
 

THis Widow seemed not above fifty at most,  
So spruce and so neat was her Carcase bedrest,  
She wanted no means for to set her to sale,  
They liked and were married, now mark well the rest.   

She seemed so complete and so comely of shape,  
That he doted on her more than both the rest.  
She said then sweet husband, be not you dismayed,  
For the truth must be known when you see me undressed.   

Two rows of white teeth she took out of her mouth,  
And put'em strait into a little round Box,  
A Glass eye likewise she pulled out of her head,  
Which made the man fear that his wife had got knocks   

Her powdered curled Locks that so fair did appear,  
Came off with more ease than a new scalded Pig,  
I wonder her Husband could laughing forbear,  
When he saw his wife look like an Ostrich egg.   

Then straight way down stooped this comely sweet Bride,  
Unlaced, and ungirded, her neat wooden leg,  
The Bridegroom was like to run out of his wits,  
For his eyes ne'er before did behold such a Hag.   

Then for to revive him, unto him she flung,  
Her Keys that did lead him to treasure great store,  
This made him to love her, so both went to bed,  
Where he did embrace her, what would you have more.   

Such luck had this husband to tumble them o'er,  
That e'er one month ended she changed her life.  
A rich wealthy miser invited him home,  
And said, if you please Sir, I'll show you a wife.   

He showed him his Daughter a Girls of fifteen,  
But she would no liking nor favour him show,  
Her friends made the match, & they married with speed,  
But she ne'er endured him, I tell you but so.   

This young married wife to such cunning was grown,  
That she fell a longing his quine for to waste:  
French Kickshaws of ten pound a dish she would have,  
With other dear meats for to fit her fine taste.   

No Physic, us Doctors, no cost did she spare,  
On pride and new fangles she set her delight,  
Her Husband began for to savour of fear,  
And to wish that she ne'er had been seen in his sight.   

No love nor no liking this young wife e'er had,  
Because she was forced to be wed to her hate.  
He sickened and died, and was laid in his grave,  
So she did enjoy his three Widow's estate.   

A young man that first was this Maidens true love,  
With all expedition they made their dispatch,  
For wedding and bedding they both were agreed,  
And the three widows husband did meet with his match.    
FINIS.   

Printed at London for I. Wright junior, dwelling at the upper end of the Old Bailie.