The Merry Wives of Wapping: OR, The Seaman's Wives Club.  
Each one her Husband's absence doth bemoan,  
Complaining they are forced to lie alone;  
And that they want what other women have,  
Although they Married are to Seamen brave;  
At length being flushed with brisk reviving bra●dy,  
Their Sorrows melt aw●y like Sugar candy.  
To the Tune of, The Cou●trey M●ss: Or, The Ploughman's Prophecy.  

With Allowance, Roger L'Estrange.   

Here's the Wapping Wives Club.   

A Knot of Women in Wapping do meet,  
One day in a Week each other to greet;  
To tell you the t●euth, they do call it a Club,  
Where they at the Bottle do merrily Bub.   

And for their discourse you shall hear it in brief,  
H●w they to each other do utter their grief;  
Until with good Brandy their noddles are soaked  
Then to forget sorrow their minds are provoked.   

And first a young Female the Ice she did break,  
Her wants to declare made her willing to speak  
Quoth she, I do long for my Husband at home,  
ay how I am weary of lying alone.   

I'm but two and twenty 'tis very well known,  
And fro●ck as e'er a young Wifle in the town;  
If I had but a little sometimes it should serve,  
For by this good brandy I'm loath for to starve.   

Alas, quoth another, my case is the same,  
Though I have been counted a jolly brave dame,  
Yet now whilst my husband is ploughing the seas  
There is no care taken his heifer to please.   
 

I Now am constrained to keep a long Lent,  
For to taste of the flesh I dare not consent;  
I must be contented to lie and to think.  
So ●ere honest Neighbours a full one I'll drink.   

A third with her verdict did freely declare,  
that she to her grief like her neighbours did fare  
Quoth she, it is long since a man I embraced,  
I have much ado to live honest and chaste.   

Though I love a Seaman above any other,  
I could be content for to be a Mother;  
Were't not for this liquor, I sure should go mad,  
To think on the pleasures I formerly had.   

Nay then, quoth the fourth give ear to my tale,  
Within a month after my husband set sail;  
I could have had proffers, though simple I be,  
Of Gallant Young Gamesters, some 1, 2, or 3.   

But under my Apron I would not permit,  
The best of them all for to meddle a bit:  
Though since in my mind I perhaps might repent  
That bashfulness hindered my real intent.   

The fifth she put in with her Oar to the Boat.  
qd. she, now kind neighbours my brains are afloat,  
I'll tell you what happened to me another's night,  
and you may conclude it was nothing but spite '   

A proper young Seaman came into my house,  
I need say no more, but Dun is the Mouse:  
But when in the dark I turned him out a door,  
Some of our bad Neighbours said, I was a w●●●●   

In troth, qd. another, 'tis nothing but common,  
For sluts for to slander an honest good woman;  
but if they, like us, were tied up from their meat,  
I doubt they would stretch for a bit for to eat.   

'Tis very well known we are all flesh and blood,  
And could be contented to have that is good;  
To taste of a sweet, and to want it so long;  
As this is good Brandy it is a great wrong.   

Qd. the next, it is nothing but truth you ha' said  
For I can remember when I was a Maid;  
Because that I never had taken a taste,  
It was but a small matter for to live chaste.   

But now I desire my Husband's return,  
the thought of his absence doth make me to mourn,  
But least that my spirits to fail me in part,  
With this cup of brandy I'll comfort my heart.   

Then up starts another was bulky and big,  
Quoth she, for my own part I care not a Fig;  
Although we are forced to tumble alone,  
Let's bear it with patience, & leave off our moan   

So long as we know at our husband's return,  
We shall be well paid for the time we did mourn  
Whilst some si●ly women shall go in their rags,  
We shall be rewarded with lu●y full bags.   

'Tis true, quoth another, now you have said all,  
And so to our moisture let's merrily fall:  
We'll cast away sorrow, and sing up old rose,  
A health to our friends, and a fig for our foes.   

And thus they caroused, whilst the reckoning did swell,  
Till to find one another they could not well tell:  
However, true Tope●s they are of their Bubb,  
And there is an end of the wapping-wives Club.    

London, Printed for F. Coles, T. Vere, J. Wright, and J. Clarke.