Mirth for Citizens: Or, A Comedy for the Country.  
Showing  

A young Farmer his unfortunate marriage,  
His wife is so churlish & currish in carriage  
He married her for beauty, for's own delight  
Now he reputes it both day and night.   

By physiognomy adviseth young men that at Wenches skip,  
To be sure to look before that they leap,  
To leap at a venture, & catch a fall,  
Raising the forehead breaks horns and all.   
Tune of, Ragged, torn, and true.  
 
 

HEy boys my Father's dead,  
and what used I to fear,  
With gold and silver I am sped,  
and have fifty pound a year:  
Then why should I be single,  
I will not lead the life;  
My gold and silver doth jingle,  
a wooing i'll go for a wife.  

Sure thrice happy am I  
if I obtain this Bride,  
There's none can her come nigh  
in all the whole world beside.    

A dainty fine Lass I know  
as ever England bred;  
Her skin is as white as Snow  
and her hair of a Crimson red:  
She lives but in our Town,  
she is virtuous, chaste, and wise,  
If I win her my joys are crowned  
besides a matchless prize,  
Sure thrice happy etc.   

I'll get her Father's good will,  
and Mothers too beside;  
Then next i'll try my skill  
to win this lovely Bride:  
I'll hug her and buss her and kiss her,  
in her lies all my pride:  
As Conventicle Dick served his sister,  
and t'other things too beside.  

Sure thrice happy etc.    

She hath two hundred pound to her portion  
and I a great deal of Land:  
Thùs shall I come quick to promotion,  
for love I take her by the hand:  
But when I went to be married,  
I was in the height of my pride;  
Brave gallants on horseback was carried,  
to accompany me and my Bride.  

Sure thrice happy am I  
that I have obtained this Bride,  
There's none can to her come nigh  
in all the whole world beside.    
 

O we had a gallant brave wedding indeed,  
and delicate dishes store,  
Those were welcome which were of our biding,  
but little we minded the poor:  
O we had both Sack and Canary,  
and the Music bravely did play,  
O then I drank Sack and Sherry,  
I thought it would never be day:  

Sure thrice happy etc.    

When I and my Bride was in bed  
on my wedding day at night,  
My fancies with pleasures she fed,  
for I had my full delight:  
She shown me Venus' School  
and with me she did daddle,  
But I a young puny fool,  
did quickly fall out of the saddle.  

Sure thrice happy etc.    

But then on the morrow morn,  
O she laughed me to scorn:  
O she thank sack and canary in Silver,  
and made me drink out of a horn,  
But when our wedding did cease  
and our brave banquets were done,  
My joys did quickly decease,  
and my sorrows soon after begun,  

sure thrice happy etc.    

She told me she would be Master,  
and all the whole household guide,  
I told her it gave disaster,  
she said it should quickly be tried:  
Then against her I took stick,  
thinking she durst not come nigh,  
With a cudgel my bones she did lick,  
that for pardon I quickly did cry:  

sure thrice happy etc.    

She's grown so devilish cursed,  
and in it she takes a pride,  
Makes nothing my head to burst  
and bang my bones beside:  
She makes me go to Plough,  
ditch, hedge, and thrash beside,  
And Jack come serve the How,  
to this slavery I'm tied,  

sure thrice happy etc.    

I do get up in a morn,  
and for her make a fire,  
I'm Cuckold and laughed to scorn,  
a holly-Crab pays my hire:  
Then her clothes she gets on her,  
Sugar-sops must ready be,  
And I forsooth wait on her,  
with vowing on my Knee:  

Sure thrice happy etc.    

At dinner she is stout,  
that by her I must now stand,  
To wait with a Napkin on my arm,  
and a Trencher in my hand:  
Some desire I may them pledge,  
and she to full of hate,  
If I kiss not my hand and make a leg,  
she lays me over the pate:  
  

Another thing troubles my head  
and grieves me worse than this,  
When her Comrade is with her in bed  
I must reach her the pot to piss:  
I must draw her a cup of long triple,  
if it be a cold Frosty night,  
Or she beats me as lame as a Cripple,  
O the Bull's pizel doth me fright.  

Sure thrice happy etc.    

She kicks me about the house  
and puts me in bodily fears,  
I dare not say dun is the Mouse,  
she pinches me through the ears.  
She makes horns at me & doth slight me,  
and makes me a Jackanokes,  
She kicks me, she pricks me, and bites me  
O I feel her devilish strokes.  

Sure thrice happy etc.    

I wish youngmen hereafter  
be not too quick in wooing their wives,  
And beware of red-hair disaster,  
or repent it all days of their lives:  
Choose a wench of a dark brown hair.  
and one of a middle size,  
Cole black will fill thee with care,  
and lodge others betwixt her thighs.  

Sure thrice happy am I  
if I obtain this Bride,  
There's none can her come nigh  
in all the whole World beside.    By Abraham Miles.  

The pretty by names this young woman hath for her Husband. A simple Simon, a Tom Nichols, Jack adam's, a Muddy-brained Cuckold, a hoping Dick, a Nicknindigo the Devils Turnspit. Here follows his potion of Diet for several days of the week, of a Monday, if he riseth not betimes in the morning, instead of posset she comes up with a Holly Crab, and pays him about in his Shirt; on Tuesdays she bangs his back with a good Cudgel; on Wednesdays she kicks his breech, and lugs his Ears, instead of feeding him with Beef and Souse; on Thursdays, Fridays, and Saturdays, she pays his back with a Bulls pizle, till he cries, O good Wife, I will never do so no more.   

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