The Cuckold's Lamentation of a Bad WIFE.  
He is tormented, and she Tanns his Hide,  
He knows not how to live, nor where to abide;  
Besides she makes him for to wear the Horn,  
And he wishes that he never had been born:  
To all young Bachelors now he does declare,  
When they go a Wooing for to have a Care,  
There's is many Maids good, but some proves evil,  
His Luck was bad, he met with a She-Devil.  
To the Tune of The Country Farmer. Or, Why are my Eyes still flow—ing.  
 

O good Wife  
out Rogue spend thy Money   

YOung Bachelors all, come hear this new Song,  
And take warning by me, lest you do yourselves wrong  
For I like a Fool must needs go to be Wed,  
To bring a Slut, and a Whore, and a Scold to my Bed;  
Biside she will fight with me every day,  
She is such a devilish Quean, I do say:  

A Man needs no more Sorrow to shorten his Life,  
When he has such hard Fortune to have a bad Wife.    

All day I lie working and taking of pains,  
And she lies at the Alehouse and spends all the Gains;  
And when I come home and give her a word,  
She'll snap me up short and no comfort afford,  
And then she'll say, Sirrah where is all your Money?  
You have been with your Whores, and you have left ne'er a penny;  

And then she lets fly that I am weary of my Life,  
Then God help that poor Man that has got such a Wife:    

I complain of my Wedding, and of my bad Life,  
What fortune I had in choosing a Wife;  
If I had sought Hell there had not been such another  
For fight, and scolding, and swearing together,  
That I am frighted sometimes clear out of my Wit,  
For fear that my Bones they should be sore beat:  

A Man needs no more sorrow to shorten his Life,  
Then God help that poor Man that has got such a Wife.    

On Saturday-night I stayed late for my Wage,  
And when I came home my Wife was in a great Rage,  
She welcomed me home, but ne'er called me Honey,  
But bombasted me sound, and called for my Money;  
She gave me a slap on the Chaps, and put me in a fright,  
That I promise you truly that my Nose is sore yet:  

A man needs no more sorrow to shorten his Life.  
When he has such hard Fortune to have a bad Wife.    

She makes me a Cuckold when I am at work,  
Her Cullies about her so closely do lurk,  
I may curse the time that e'er I was born,  
That I must be forced now to wear the Horn;  
No, the Horn is not all, but she bangs my Bones sore,  
And when I am in Bed with her, she throws me on the floor  

A Man needs no, etc.    

I cannot sleep quietly, I now will be sworn,  
I am so tormented with the pain of the Horn,  
Therefore honest Bachelors have a great care  
That you never, like me, draw yourselves in a Snare;  
For my Wife is so malkin when she sets on  
That I am not able to tame her, let me do what I can:  

A Man needs no, etc.    

She minds nought but Idleness, this is the Truth,  
And to find fault with her I am very loath,  
One day I but speak, and she did begin,  
She took up the Tongues and broke both my shins,  
You Cuckoldy Rogue do you know what you say?  
I will soften your Hide if you prate in that way:  

Did you e'er hear the like, she will shorten my Life,  
God help that poor Man that has got such a Wife.    

When any of her Customers comes to our House,  
I must stand at the back, I dare not say Dun is the Mouse,  
She will be so angry at me, I swear,  
That I am ready to bepiss my Breeches for fear;  
And if I do not carry my Cu● then upright  
Lamb-pye I must have to my Supper that night:  

I am so tormented I am weary of my Life,  
God help that poor Man that has got such a Wife.    

And now to conclude, you have heard my Distress,  
My Fortune was bad, all this I confess,  
And Bachelors all take warning by me,  
Some Women are dangerous  you see;  
For I am Hen-peckt to the sight of my Friends;  
And have nothing but Blows to make me amends;  

I am so tormented I am, weary of my Life,  
God help that poor Man that has got such a Wife.     

Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden Ball in Pie-corner.