The West-Country Weaver:  
CONTAINING His Sorrowful Lamentation for the Hardship which he undergoes by a Proud Imperious WIFE: Together, With his Resolution to reclaim Her by the Well-approved Oil of HOLLY.  
To the Tune of If Love's a sweet Passion, etc.  
Licenced according to Order.  
 
 

GOod People I married a turbulent Wife,  
Who with railing has made me quite weary of Life;  
Tho' I do my endeavour to give her content,  
Yet my Labour, alas! to no purpose is spent:  
On her Errands, Peel-garlick her Husband she sends;   

You may see what it is to be married, dear Friends.   

When I was a Bachelor gallant and gay,  
Then at Stoolball, or Cricket, I freely might play,  
Nay, and sometimes with Margery ride to a Fair;  
But, alas! now my Head is encumbered with Care:  
I must tarry at home for to feed my Wife's Hens   

You may see what it is to be married, dear Friends.   

If I am Acquaintance do happen to meet  
Any time in the Day, as I pass through the Street,  
And that we for one Flagon together should go,  
Straight she comes like a loud and invincible shrew;  
At my Noddle the Pipe and the Flagon she sends:   

You may see what, etc.   

All Winter betimes I am forced to rise  
For to make her a Fire and Caudle likewise,  
Which I bring her each morning with care to her Bed,  
Which perhaps in her Passion she'll sling at my Head:  
This I often have had for to make me amends.   

You may see what, etc.   

She set me one morning to hang on the Pot  
And I needs must acknowledge I clearly forgot  
For to put in the Water, but sauntered about  
Till the Porridge-Pot bottom was clearly burnt out:  
At my Noddle the Ladle she presently sends,   

You may see what it is to be married, dear Friends.   

One morning she left me at home to be Nurse,  
While she walked with her Gallant, whom often I'd curse:  
Now as I was fate rocking, and winding of Silk,  
Oh the Cat came and eat up the Child's sugared Milk:  
But when this sad Disasster was known to my Wife,  
Honest People I thought 'twould have cost me my Life.   

Now when she had thrashed me, up Stairs she did go  
With her Gallant, and charged me to tarry below;  
But I cunningly followed, up Stairs I did creep,  
Ay, and through the Keyhole in troth I did peep:  
But her Gallant he heard me, and presently swore  
He would kick me down Stairs, if he came to the Door.   

With courage I told him, I feared not his Blows,  
I would peep through the Keyhole in spite of his Nose;  
Then the Spark in a Passion his Rapier he drew,  
Strait away from the Door of the Chamber I flew;  
For I knowing young Gallants are desperate Men:  
And thought I, should he kill me, i'faith where am I then.   

I took her to task when the Gallant was gone,  
And I said, Love consider but what you have done:  
It was all that I said, when she flew with disdain,  
Ay, and called me poor Wittol, and Cuckold in grain;  
And a three-legged Stool at my Noddle she sends:   

You may see what it is to be married, my Friends.   

Before any longer this Life I will lead,  
I am fully resolved to Chastife her with speed.  
With the sweet Oil of Holly I'll chafe her proud Hide,  
Which will supple and make her a diligent Bride:  
And when thus she's reclaimed, to the World I will tell  
How in Love, Peace and Comfort, together we dwell.    

●rinted for C. Bates at the Bible and 〈…〉