The Scolding Wives Vindication: OR, An ANSWER to the CUCKOLD'S COMPLAINT.  
Wherein she shows what just Reasons she had to exercise Severity over her insufficient Husband.  
To the Tune of, The Cuckold's Complaint.  
Licenced according to Order.  
 
 

I Have been abused of late,  
by some of the Poet's Crew,  
Who says, I broke my Husband's Pate,  
but this I did never do.   

'Tis true I his Ears did cuff,  
and gave him a Kick or two;  
For this I had just Cause enough,  
because he would nothing do.   

He's lain like a Log of Wood,  
in Bed, for a year or two,  
And wont afford me any good,  
he nothing at all would do.   

I am in my blooming Prime,  
dear Neighbours I tell you true,  
I am lost to lose my Teeming Time,  
yet nothing at all he'll do.   

He says that I keep a Friend,  
but what if I did keep two,  
There's no one can me discommend,  
for nothing, etc.   

I make it full well appear,  
to be both just and true,  
I kept my Maidenhead Two Year,  
for nothing at all he'd do.   
 
 

Sometimes he'd give me a Kiss,  
and I would return him two,  
But when he comes to farther Bliss  
he nothing at all would do.   

I am a young Buxom Dame,  
and fain would my joys renew,  
But my poor Cuckold is to blame,  
he nothing, etc.   

He says I have him abused,  
but what if this same be true?  
For this I may be well excused,  
since nothing, etc.   

Sure never was Wife so fooled  
as I, for a year or two;  
I did for him whate'er I could,  
yet nothing, etc.   

I feasted him every day,  
with Lamb-stones and Cock-broths too,  
Yet all this Cost was thrown away,  
he nothing, etc.   

I feed him with jelly of Chicks,  
and curious Egg-Caudles too,  
I'll good feed him with Fagget-sticks,  
for nothing, etc.   

He lies like a lump of Clay,  
such Husbands there is but few,  
'Twould make a Woman run astray,  
when nothing, etc.   

Now now let him take his ease,  
and sleep while the Sky looks blue,  
I have a Friend my mind to please,  
since nothing, etc.   

Long, long, have I lived at strife,  
I kicked, and I cuffed him too,  
He's like to live no better Life,  
since nothing at all he'll do.   

I solemnly do declare,  
believe me this is true,  
He shall dig Gravel next Horn-Fair,  
and that he is like to do.    

Printed for P. Brooksby. J. Deacon. J. Blare. J. Back.