%ISOlat1; %ISOlat2; %ISOnum; %ISOpub; ]> The Cuckold's Lamentation / of a Bad WIFE. / He is tormented, and she Tanns his Hide, / He knows not how to live, nor where to abide; / Besides she makes him for to wear the Horn, / And he wishes that he never had been born: / To all young Batchelours now he does declare, / When they goe a Wooing for to have a Care, / There's is many Maids good, but some proves evil, / His Luck was bad, he met with a She-Devil. University of California - Santa Barbara The Early Modern Center English Broadside Ballad Archive (EBBA) Director Patricia Fumerton Associate Director Carl G Stahmer ?-? Early Modern Center, University of California Santa Barbara Santa Barbara, CA 06/18/2014 34135

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Patricia Fumerton Early Modern Center - English Department University of California Santa Barbara, CA 93105 United States of America EMail: pfumer@english.ucsb.edu

R228160 1 The Country Farmer. Or, Why are my Eyes still flow------ing. Why Are My Eyes Still Flowing The Country Farmer. Or, Why are my Eyes still flowing. YOung Batchelours all, come hear this new Song, / And take warning by me, lest you do your selves wrong A Man needs no more Sorrow to shorten his Life, / When he has such hard Fortune to have a bad Wife. [with variation] Information in this section of the Source Description refers to the original ballad manuscript. 1: 1444 The Cuckold's Lamentation / of a Bad WIFE. / He is tormented, and she Tanns his Hide, / He knows not how to live, nor where to abide; / Besides she makes him for to wear the Horn, / And he wishes that he never had been born: / To all young Batchelours now he does declare, / When they goe a Wooing for to have a Care, / There's is many Maids good, but some proves evil, / His Luck was bad, he met with a She-Devil. The Cuckold's Lamentation of a Bad WIFE. He is tormented, and she Tans his Hide, he knows not how to live, nor where to abide; Besides she makes him for to wear the Horn, And he wishes that he never had been born: To all young Bachelors now he does declare, When they go a Wooing for to have a Care, There's is many Maids good, but some proves evil, His Luck was bad, he met with a She-Devil. ?-? P. Brooksby

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 Early Modern Center Ballad Project Keyword Taxonomy advice affliction/ health alcohol Americas animals/ nature Bible/ biblical figures buildings/ architecture catastrophe children class clothing/ appearance country/ nation crime death economics/ commerce entertainments family Featured folklore gender holidays/ seasons infidelity labor/ craft law London love maritime marriage military/ war monstrosity mythology/ Classical news nobility/ court politics/ government procreation punishment race/ ethnicity religious concepts religious figures religious groups royalty rural life servitude sex/ sexuality supernatural/ magic travel trickery/ deceit urban life vice violence virtue vulgar humor youth/ age Library of Congress Subject Heading Taxonomy 6/18/2014 Santa Barbara, California, United States of America advice infidelity marriage violence Ballads, English 17th century Broadsides, England 17th century 6/18/2014 1:37:47 PM XBallad Doran, Thomas Created XML Version of Ballad 6/18/2014 1:37:47 PM Transcription Supervisor Meyer, Shannon Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/18/2014 1:37:47 PM Double-Key Comparison and Merging McCants, Kristen Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/18/2014 1:37:47 PM Transcriptionist Two Koath, Jayne Transcription of ballad manuscript 6/18/2014 1:37:47 PM Transcriptionist One Keller Scotch, Grace Transcription of ballad manuscript 4/12/2013 Checker William Hildalgo Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 12/3/2012 Bibliographer Elizabeth Aguilar Initial Ballad Catalogue Record Created 12/2/2013 Checker Phillip Cortez Edited Ballad Catalogue Record 12/2/2013 Checker Phillip Cortez Edited Ballad Catalogue Record
<seg n="1" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">The Cuckold's Lamentation</hi></seg> <seg n="2" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">of a Bad WIFE.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="3" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">He is tormented, and she Tanns his Hide,</hi></seg> <seg n="4" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">He knows not how to live, nor where to abide;</hi></seg> <seg n="5" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">Besides she makes him for to wear the Horn,</hi></seg> <seg n="6" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">And he wishes that he never had been born:</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="7" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To all young Batchelours now he does declare,</hi></seg> <seg n="8" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">When they goe a Wooing for to have a Care,</hi></seg> <seg n="9" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">There's is many Maids good, but some proves evil,</hi></seg> <seg n="10" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">His Luck was bad, he met with a She-Devil.</hi></seg> <lb/> <seg n="11" rend="left"><hi rend="italic">To the Tune of <hi rend="bold">The Country Farmer.</hi> Or, <hi rend="bold">Why are my Eyes still flow---------ing.</hi></hi></seg>
YOung Batchelours all, come hear this new Song, And take warning by me, lest you do your selves wrong For I like a Fool must needs go to be Wed, To bring a Slut, and a Whore, and a Scold to my Bed; Beside she will fight with me every day, She is such a devilish Quean, I do say: A Man needs no more Sorrow to shorten his Life, When he has such hard Fortune to have a bad Wife. All day I lye working and taking of pains, And she lyes at the Ale-house and spends all the Gains; And when I come home and give her a word, She'll snap me up short and no comfort afford, And then she'll say, Sirrah where is all your Money? You have bin with your Whores, and you have left ne'er a penny; And then she lets fly that I am weary of my Life, Then God help that poor Man that has got such a Wife:
I complain of my Wedding, and of my bad Life, What fortune I had in choosing a Wife; If I had sought Hell there had not been such another For fighting, and scolding, and swearing together, That I am frighted sometimes clear out of my Wit, For fear that my Bones they should be sore beat: A Man needs no more sorrow to shorten his Life, Then God help that poor Man that has got such a Wife. On Saturday-night I staid late for my Wage, And when I came home my Wife was in a great Rage, She wellcom'd me home, but ne'er call'd me Honey, But bumbasted me soundly, and call'd for my Money; She gave me a slap on the Chops, and put me in a fright, That I promise you truly that my Nose is sore yet: A Man needs no more sorrow to shorten his Life. When he has such hard Fortune to have a bad Wife.
She makes me a Cuckold when I am at work, Her Cullies about her so closely do lurk, I may curse the time that e'er I was born, That I must be forced now to wear the Horn; No, the Horn is not all, but she bangs my Bones sore, And when I am in Bed with her, she throws me on the floar A Man needs no, etc. I cannot sleep quietly, I now will be sworn, I am so tormented with the pain of the Horn, Therefore honest Batchelors have a great care That you never, like me, draw your selves in a Snare; For my Wife is so mankin when she sets on That I am not able to tame her, let me do what I can: A Man needs no, etc. She minds nought but Idleness, this is the Truth, And to find fault with her I am very loath, One day I but speak, and she did begin, She took up the Tongs and broke both my shins, You Cuckoldy Rogue do you know what you say? I will soften your Hide if you prate in that way: Did you e'er hear the like, she will shorten my Life, God help that poor Man that has got such a Wife. When any of her Customers comes to our House, I must stand at the back, I dare not say Dun is the Mouse, She will be so angry at me, I swear, That I am ready to bepiss my Breeches for fear; And if I do not carry my Cup then upright Lamb-pye I must have to my Supper that night: I am so tormented I am weary of my Life, God help that poor Man that has got such a Wife. And now to conclude, you have heard my Distress, My Fortune was bad, all this I confess, And Batchelors all take warning by me, Some Women are dangerous Cattel you see; For I am Hen-peckt to the sight of my Friends, And have nothing but Blows to make me amends: I am so tormented I am weary of my Life, God help that poor Man that has got such a Wife.
Printed for P. Brooksby at the Golden Ball in Pye-corner.