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EBBA 30884

British Library - Roxburghe
Ballad XSLT Template
Advice to Batchelors,
OR,
The Married Mans Lamentation.
Take heed you that unmarried are,
how you do make your choice;
But if a good Wife you do find,
twill make your heart rejoyce.
Tune of, Hey Boys up go we; Busie Fame; Martellus; or, Jenny Gin.

YOu Batchelors that single are,
may lead a happy life;
For married men are full of care,
and Women oft breed strife:
As by my late unhappy match,
you here may plainly see;
A loving Man and froward Wife
will never well agree.

Beautys a thing that wins mens hearts
and reason so bewitches;
That Men oft let the weaker sort,
like fools, to wear the Breeches:

And I my self too late lament
my Apish foolery;
For if I speak an hasty word,
then, hey Boys, slap goes she.

I in the morning up must get,
or else there is no quiet;
And get her some delicious bit,
for she doth love good Dyet:
I ask her why shel be profuse?
she crys, whats that to me?
And if another word I use,
then hey Boys, slap goes she.

Shel make me rise out of my Bed
to let another in;
And if I ask the reason why,
a Quarrel doth begin;
Shel haul me up and down the House,
the like you ner did see;
I must be silent as a Mouse,
or, hey Boys, slap goes she.

If I but for my breakfast ask,
then doth she laugh and jeer;
Perhaps give me a hard dry crust,
and strong four-shilling Beer;
She tells me that is good enough
for such a Rogue as me;
And if I do but seem to pout,
then, hey Boys, slap goes she.

She oftentimes doth tell me plain,
that I do wear the Horns;
Sure ery Man doth this disdain,
and wise men meerly scorns:
But since tis my unhappy fate,
how can it helped be?
But if I chance thereof to prate,
then, hey Boys, slap goes she.

The Pots and Dishes I must wash,
and scowre the Irons too;
Nay, and must wash the childrens clouts
believe me this is true:
But those that did the Children get,
should slave as well as me;

And if I chance to vex or fret,
then, hey Boys, slap goes she.

This is a strange and dismal life,
that I poor Man do lead;
And when I do consider well,
it makes my heart to bleed:
But if it goes against the grain,
I must contented be;
If in the least I do complain,
then, hey Boys, slap goes she.

Oh that I were a single Man,
as I was heretofore;
Or if I were a Widdower,
I ner would Marry more:
For I do to my sorrow know,
and to my grief I see,
When she says I, and I say no,
then hey Boys slap goes she.

A thousand times I wish in vain,
I ner had been begot;
Then had I been a happy Man,
now Cuckold, Fool, and Sot:
But once again you Batchelors,
take warning now by me:
For tis a curse to be a Slave,
and yet a Cuckold be.


FINIS.
Printed for J. Deacon, at the Angel in
Guiltspur-street, without Newgate.

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