Volume 5 — A Song.

GOOD Neighbour why do you look awry, You are a wond’rous Stranger; You walk about, you huff and pout, As if you’d burst with Anger: Is it for that your Fortune’s great, Or you so Wealthy are? Or live so high there’s none a-nigh That can with you compare? But t’other Day I heard one say, Your Husband durst not show his Ears, But like a Lout does walk about, So full of Sighs and Fears: Good Mrs. Tart, I caren’t a Fart, For you nor all your Jears. My Husband’s known for to be one, That is most Chast and pure; And so would be continually, But for such Jades as you are: You wash, you lick, you smug, you trick, You toss a twire a grin; You nod and wink, and in his Drink, You strive to draw him in: You Lie you Punck, you’re always Drunk, And now you Scold and make a Strife, And like a Whore you run o’ th’ Score, And lead him a weary Life; Tell me so again you dirty Quean, And I’ll pull you by the Quoif. Go dress those Brats, those nasty Rats, That have a Lear so drowzy; With Vermin spread they look like Dead, Good Faith they’re always Lousie: Pray hold you there, and do not swear, You are not half so sweet; You feed yours up with bit and sup, And give them a dirty Teat: My Girls, my Boys, my only Joys, Are better fed and taught than yours; You lie you Flirt, you look like Dirt, And I’ll kick you out of Doors; A very good Jest, pray do your best, And Faith I’ll quit your Scores. Go, go you are a nasty Bear, Your Husband cannot bear it; A nasty Quean as e’er was seen, Your Neighbours all can swear it: A fulsome Trot and good for nought, Unless it be to chat; You stole a Spoon out of the Room, Last Christning you were at: You lye you Bitch you’ve got the Itch, Your Neighbours know you are not sound; Look how you Claw with your nasty Paw, And I’ll fell you to the Ground; You’ve tore my Hood, you shall make it good If it cost me Forty Pound.