The Countryman's care in choosing a Wife: OR, A young Bachelor hard to be pleased.  
A Wife he'll have, yet will be sure to choose  
One that he loves, the rest he doth refuse;  
And many sorts of Maids, he by hath past,  
Being all unfit for him; until at last  
Upon a Farmer's Daughter he doth pitch,  
That's a good Huswife, virtuous, neat, and rich.  
Tune of, I'll have one I love, etc. Or, The Yellow-haired Laddy.  
 
 

I Am a brisk Youngster,  
and fain would be Wed;  
And have a good Wife  
for to please me in Bed;  
But I fear that in choosing,  
they should me beguile:  

Then i'll have one I love,  
though I live the less while.    

I'll not have a Girl that  
is bred at the Court;  
For fear she be given  
to wanton and sport;  
On every Gallant  
she's apt for to smile;  

Then i'll have, etc.    

A Citizen's Daughter  
I dare not to take:  
The steps of her Mother  
she'll never forsake:  
She'll make me look out,  
you may see them a mile:  

Then i'll have, etc.    

No maker of Buttons,  
nor yet of Bonelace;  
Shall e'er be my love,  
though I die on the place;  
Although they do mince it,  
and simper and smile;  

Yet i'll have one I love,  
though I live the less while,    
 
 

My Hostess' Daughter,  
she must be denied;  
Because that I fear  
she hath often been tried;  
Be sure she would fit me  
at Hedge, or at Style,  

But i'll have one I love,  
though I live the less while,    

She that hath much Suitors,  
and's loath to be won;  
And many a Youngman  
she perhaps hath undone.  
It is not her cunning  
that shall me beguile:  

For i'll have, etc.    

A Wench that's imperious,  
and strives for to rule;  
If that I should take her,  
you'd count me a Fool:  
She would make my Noddle  
as sore as a Bile;  

But i'll have, etc.    

And she that is proud,  
and hath nought to begin;  
I would not for such a one  
give a Sléeves Pin;  
As soon as a better,  
my Bed she'll defile;  

Then i'll have, etc.    

I'll not have a Cookmaid,  
for she is too black;  
And when she doth sweat,  
her Smock sticks to her Back  
She'll scold, and she'll brawl,  
you may hear her a mile:  

But i'll have, etc.    

The Lass that is fair,  
to be sure she is proud;  
And she that is little,  
you know she is loud;  
Against a good Husband,  
they're apt to revile;  

Then i'll have, etc.    

But now for to tell you  
the depth of my mind;  
A Rich Farmer's Daughter,  
I have in the Wind;  
For her I will Ride,  
if it be forty mile;  

And i'll have, etc.    

'Tis she is my Berry,  
my Dear and delight;  
Who hath my affection,  
by day and by night:  
To her I will go,  
and i'll make her to smile;  

For i'll have my own Love,  
though I live the less while.