DRUNK I was last Night that’s poss,
My Wife began to Scold;
Say what I cou’d for my Heart’s Blood,
Her Clack she wou’d not hold:
Thus her Chat she did begin,
Is this your time of coming in;
The Clock strikes One, you’ll be undone,
If thus you lead your Life:
My Dear said I, I can’t deny,
But what you say is true;
I do intend, my Life to mend,
Pray lends the Pot to Spew.
Fye, you Sot, I ne’er can bear,
To rise thus e’ery Night;
Tho’ like a Beast you never care,
What consequence comes by’t:
The Child and I may starve for you,
We neither can have half our due;
With grief I find, you’re so unkind,
In time you’ll break my Heart:
At that I smil’d, and said dear Child,
I believe your in the wrong;
But if’t shou’d be you’re destiny,
I’ll sing a merry Song.
The Gelding the Devil. Set by Mr. Tho.
Wroth.
[[Listen]]
I Met with the Devil in the shape of a Ram,
Then over and over the Sow-gelder came;
I rose and halter’d him fast by the Horns,
And pick’d out his Stones, as you would pick out Corns;
Maa, quoth the Devil, with that out he slunk,
And left us a Carkass of Mutton that stunk.
I chanc’d to ride forth a Mile and a half,
Where I heard he did live in disguise of a Calf;
I bound him and Gelt him e’er he did any evil,
For he was at the best but a young sucking Devil:
Maa, yet he cries, and forth he did steal,
And this was sold after for excellent Veal.
Some half a Year after in the Form of a Pig,
I met with the Rogue, and he look’d very big;
I caught at his Leg, laid him down on a Log,
E’er a Man could Fart twice, I made him a Hog:
Huh, huh quoth the Devil, and gave such a Jerk,
That a Jew was Converted and eat of that Pork.
In Woman’s attire I met him most fine,
At first sight I thought him some Angel divine;
But viewing his crab Face I fell to my Trade,
I made him forswear ever acting a Maid:
Meaw, quoth the Devil, and so ran away,
Hid himself in a Fryer’s old Weeds as they say.
I walked along and it was my good chance,
To meet with a Black-coat that was in a Trance;
I speedily grip’d him and whip’d off his Cods,
’Twixt his Head and his Breech, I left little odds:
O, quoth the Devil, and so away ran,
Thou oft will be curst by many a Woman.
