The Lancashire Cuckold: OR, THE Country Parish-Clark betrayed by a Conjurer's Enchanted Chamber-pot.  
To the Tune of, Fond Boy, etc.  

Licenced according to Order,   
 

A Lancashire Farmer he had a fair Wife,  
Whom the Clerk of the Parish did love as life;  
In the pleasures of Love they would frolic and play,  
Now her kind loving Husband grew jealous they say:  
To a cunning Man therefore the Farmer did go,  
To be told whether he was a Cuckold or no.   

The Conjurer cried, If my counsel you'll take,  
Then to morrow right pleasant good sport I will make,  
For I have a strong Charm that will lock them all fast,  
And as pleasant a Pipe, that at every blast,  
All that hears it shall caper and dance too and fro,  
And you'll find by this if you're Cuckold or no.   

Go tell your kind Wife you must ride out with speed,  
And you shall not return till the next day indeed;  
Now to keep yourself warm take your cloak and your gown;  
There's an old hollow Oak half a mile out of Town,  
In that very same Tree if you ●odge b●t all night,  
The next morning I'll show you a delicate sight.   

The Farmer resolving this pro●ect to try,  
With the Conjurer's humour he strait did comply;  
Having told his sweet Wife he must ride out of Town,  
She began with a sorrowful sigh to look down;  
Yet his back being turned, for her Gallant she sent,  
That all night they might revel in joys with content.   

Against the Clark's coming, a capon she dressed,  
Unto which they had humming March-beer of the best,  
When the Supper was ended, to bed they did high,  
All the night in their wanton embraces to lie;  
But before the next morning there was a strange rout,  
Which the cunning Man he by his Charms ●●ought about.   

The Conjuring-Schollar got in by his skill,  
Where he lay full as safe as a Thief in a Mill;  
In the Pisspot he fixed such a Charm at the last,  
That who e'er touched the sam●●●●ld be sure to stick fast;  
Now the Clerk to make water near morning did rise,  
Then the Pisspot was locked fast betwixt his two thighs.   

The Farmer's far Wife she rose up in her shift,  
For to help her poor Lover out at a dead lift;  
On his delicate Dildoul her right hand she got,  
With the left hand she seized on the side of the Pot,  
Where she tugged and she pulled till she made her arms ache,  
For she likewise stuck fast like a Bear to a stake.   

In this sad distress with her foot she did knock,  
Then her Daughter she straightways run up in her smock.  
Quoth the Mother, Girl, help us and make no excuse,  
Sure the Pot is bewitched for we cannot get loose;  
Pretty Nancy endeavoured to set them both free,  
But as soon as she touched it they stuck there all three.   

The cunning Man opened the door, being day,  
On his Conjuring pipe he began for to play;  
Naked all but their shifts they did caper and dance  
Through the Town, till they met with a Tailor by chance,  
Who would needs break the Pot, being lusty and strong,  
But he stuck fast and likewise went dancing along.   

He piping did lead them along the highway,  
Till they came to a place where her Husband he lay,  
Who when hearing a noise, he peeped out of the Oak  
Like a Man that was frighted, the first words he spoke,  
He cried, What my friend Richard the good Parish-Clark  
Is it you then that tickles my Wife in the dark.   

Now when they had capered three times round the Oak,  
Then the Spell or Enchantment immediately broke;  
The poor Tailor he run, but the Clerk stayed behind.  
Quoth the Farmer, By you I'm a Cuckold I find;  
If for this foul offence, I am not satisfied,  
I'll immediately whip out your nutmegs, he cried.   

The Clerk he did proffer to give him ten pound,  
For it was but a trespass, he said, on his ground;  
But the Farmer no less than a hundred would have,  
And the other did give it his Nutmegs to save;  
Their apparel was sent for, and when they were dressed,  
They went all to the Alehouse, and lauged at the jest.    

London: Printed for I. Blare, on London-bridge.