The young-womans' Complaint: OR, A Caveat to all Maids to have a care how they be Married to Old Men.  
The Tune is, What should a young woman do with an old man, &c. Or, The Tyrant.  
 
 


COme all you young damsels  
both beauteous and free,  
I'll Summon you all  
to listen to me;  
A Song of misguiding,  
concerning my Marriage,  
Sorrow's the cause of  
this my ill carriage;  
A Maiden of fifteen  
as it may appear  
She Married an Old-man  
of Seventy-two year;  
And by her misfortune  
well prove it I can,  
That she is sore troubled  
with an Old-man.   

When he sits down by me,  
hée'l presently blame me,  
He often doth chide me  
and threatens to lame me;  
Then fain would I hide me  
but cannot tell where.  
He calls me young Giglet,  
and sometimes bold whore;  
But hold thy tongue man,  
for I am none such,  
I dare not call Cuckold  
though I think as much:  
She throws by her Bracelets  
her Hat and her Fan,  
Sing cursed be the time  
that I saw this Old-man.   

To speak of his Livings  
his Land or his fee,  
Or of his Relations  
too tedious 'twill be;  
His humping, his grumping  
his cursing, and swearing,  
He's almost quite blind,  
and heard of his hearing,  
His Pate it is bald, and  
his Beard it is thin,  
His Breath it doth stink,  
and short is his thing:  
And now let him do  
what ever he can,  
Judge if it be fitting  
to love this Old-man.   

In Bed as I lie,  
he groaneth he cryeth  
Like one that is dying  
in sorrow he lieth:  
Instead of love's blisses  
he scraches and grambles  
And all the night long  
he tosses and tumbles,  
And lying and dying  
and telling the Clock,  
Weeping and wailing,  
expecting a Knock:  
And wiping away her  
tears as they ran,  
What shall a young woman  
do with this old man.    

The second part, to the same Tune.  

HE stoops in the shoulders  
and goes almost double  
He is always to me  
a continual trouble,  
His Breast it sticks forth  
even almost with's snout,  
He seldom goes far without  
letting a rout,  
His hands they do shake,  
and he's very lame,  
And all his whole body is  
quite out of frame,  
His Nose it is long, and  
his face pale and wan.  
With all the ill properties  
of an Old man.   

When he walks abroad with me  
sometimes in the street  
He limps, and he stumbles,  
the boys they do séeed,  
And laugh him to scorn,  
he créeps and he grumbles,  
He coughs and he spits,  
and at last he down tumbles  
Then I cry and lament  
that ere I was born▪  
But to quit his love, I'll  
make him wear the horn;  
For let me do what  
ever I may or can,  
I still shall be plagued  
with this doting old man.   

If I with some young men  
do chance for to meet,  
And do but them friendly  
and courteously greet,  
Than he begins presently  
to scold and brawl,  
And a thousand base names  
he then will me call,  
Which makes me with grief  
and sorrow lament,  
And now it's too late  
I fear to repent:  
But I'll get a Youngster that  
please me well can,  
Then a fig for this doting  
feeble old man.   

I forced was to marry him  
'cause of his Wealth,  
But I'll have another now▪  
and then by stealth:  
For with him I must never  
expect any joy;  
Which vexes me worst  
I shall ne'er have a boy;  
Therefore I'm resolved to  
live merry and ●olly,  
And take the best course  
to quite melancholy.  
For what should a yonng-woman  
do with this old man  
But make him a Cuckold  
as soon as she can   

There's young men enough,  
Which will make much of me  
And I unto them will be  
gallant and free:  
They'll court me and kiss  
and please me full well,  
And I will not want it,  
the truth I you tell;  
His Chests I'll set open,  
his money let fly,  
For I'll lead a merry life,  
until I die.  
What should a yonng-woman  
do with this old man,  
But make him a Cuckold  
as soon as she can.   

My advice is to you all  
Maids that are young,  
That you get you Husband,  
that will you not wrong,  
For sure youth with age  
will never agree,  
As by this Ditty you  
plainly may see;  
Therefore take you warning  
all by my miscarriage,  
Be sure to be wise in  
your choice of Marriage:  
For I'll assure you,  
do what you can,  
You never can love such,  
an Old doting man.    
Finis.   

London, Printed for W. Gilbertson in Giltspur-street without Newgate.