The Cuckoo's Commendation: Or, the Cuckolds, Credit: Being a merry Maying Song in Praise of the Cuckoo.  
To the Tune of the Buttoned Smock.  

 
 

OF all the Birds that haunts the woods,  
The waters or the Plain;  
I like the Cuckoos pleasant tunes,  
though some his Notes disdain:  
For all the fair green Season,  
most cheerfully he sings,  
And with his double Ditties makes  
the Hills and Valleys ring.   

The Earth to entertain him,  
puts on her best array,  
The lofty trees and lowly shrubs,  
likewise are fresh and gay;  
The Birds to bid him welcome in,  
do warble pleasant notes,  
All Beasts in fields an● Forests wild  
cast off their winter coats.   

And when he comes amongst them,  
he chants his melody,  
More freely than a ●awyer,  
that takes a double Fee:  
He fare excels the Fiddler,  
his melodie's more free,  
As well unto the poorest sort,  
as to the highest degree.   

The Citizens that hear him,  
will walk to fetch 〈◊〉 May;  
Their wives like 〈…〉 cheer them,  
will dress themselves most gay  
All for to hear the Cuckowsing,  
and warble forth his ●●●●es,  
The Maidens and the Prentices,  
together go in flocks.   

He'll sing unto the Courtier,  
as well as to the the Clown,  
He su●●…eth not his music,  
in City nor in Town:  
And many when they hear him,  
will think this Proverb true,  
That Gold and Opportunity,  
will make some Women do.   

The Lawyer when he here's him,  
his velvet Cap off stirs,  
And fears whilo he's at Westminster,  
another Cause demurs:  
Lest that some younger Student come  
at home and in his place,  
To have the free soliciting  
of his own proper case.   

The Merchant and the Mariner,  
that foreign Countries find,  
When they do hear the Cuckoo sing,  
rest doubtful in their mind:  
While they strange traffickes take in hand  
to load their Ships with wares,  
Their Pinnace that they left at home  
some other Burden bears.   

The Maidens when they hear him,  
accuse him for a blab,  
The jealous Doctor when he cries,  
thinks his young wife a Drab:  
Captains and wedded Martialists,  
when they do hear him cry,  
Likewise mistrust their Wives at home,  
in others Arms do lie.   

The silken suited Citizens  
which let their gorgeous Spouses  
Go frólicke in good company,  
whilst they do keep their houses:  
If they do blame the Cuckoo sweet,  
they do the Bird abuse:  
For wine and opportunity,  
will make some women lose.    

The second Part,  
to the same Tune.  
 

ANother takes a Garden,  
to which in pleasant weather  
The Mistress must a walking go,  
the Apprentice brings her thither:  
And then it so may fortune,  
that walking on the way,  
They fall into some dancing-Schools,  
and there they both do stay.   

But then and if the Citizen  
doth hear the Cuckoo's sound,  
He fears not but his Prentices,  
from Venery are bound:  
Suspecttly then he keeps his house,  
and casteth up his Book,  
Mean while the Mistress and her Man,  
are doing what, go look.   

And there he Knights and Gentlemen,  
which gallant seem and stout,  
Do let their wives have Coaches,  
to whirl the streets about,  
Man'd only by a Coachman,  
an Usher and a Page:  
Yet when they hear the Cuckoo's note,  
they neither fume nor rage.   

For if my Lady lighteth,  
the Coachman must sit still,  
The Lackey he is then employed,  
to do her worship's will:  
The Usher for her Ladyship,  
he well doth know his part,  
And doth that which the Prentice did,  
to please his Mistress heart.   

The Tailor that so neatly  
doth fit his Mistress waste,  
And puts on her straight Bodies,  
when Petticoats unlaced,  
Whilst thus he fits his Mistress,  
another is at home.  
To ease his wife's straight Bodies,  
which are to narrow grown.   

The Butcher that for fat wars  
full oft abroad doth ride,  
And leaves his wife to sell the joints,  
that he doth well provide:  
While he from home is ranging,  
his Wife a Friend may find,  
That of a Lamb may make a Ram,  
and use her very kind.   

The Smith which on his Anvil,  
the Iron hard doth ding:  
He cannot hear the Cuckoo,  
although he loud doth sing,  
In pointing of Plow-Harnesse,  
he labours till he sweat,  
While another in his Forge at home,  
may steal a private heat.   

But to conclude of all sorts,  
though high or low they be,  
There's many lose backsliders,  
would there were none for me:  
And yet it grieves my Conscience,  
that such a lovely Game,  
Should make the Cuckoo hated,  
and scandal his good name,   

His body is as toothsome,  
and pleasant as his voice,  
And use him as a Diet,  
he is a food most choice:  
He fortifies the back part,  
and freeth some Disease,  
And therefore use you all the Art,  
may best the Cuckoo please.    
FINIS.   

Printed for Mr. 〈…〉