Volume 5 — The Merchant and the Fidler’s Wife.
Reading edition
[Listen]
IT was a Rich Merchant Man, That had both Ship and all; And he would cross the salt Seas, Tho’ his cunning it was but small. The Fidler and his Wife, They being nigh at hand; Would needs go sail along with him, From Dover unto Scotland. The Fidler’s Wife look’d brisk, Which made the Merchant smile; He made no doubt to bring it about, The Fidler to beguile. Is this thy Wife the Merchant said, She looks like an honest Spouse; Ay that she is, the Fidler said, That ever trod on Shoes. Thy Confidence is very great, The Merchant then did say; If thou a Wager darest to bet, I’ll tell thee what I will lay. I’ll lay my Ship against thy Fiddle, And all my Venture too; So Peggy may gang along with me, My Cabin for to View. If she continues one Hour with me, Thy true and constant Wife; Then shalt thou have my Ship and be, A Merchant all thy Life. The Fidler was content, He Danc’d and Leap’d for joy; And twang’d his Fiddle in merriment, For Peggy he thought was Coy. Then Peggy she went along, His Cabin for to View; And after her the Merchant-Man, Did follow, we found it true. When they were once together, The Fidler was afraid; For he crep’d near in pitious fear, And thus to Peggy he said. Hold out, sweet Peggy hold out, For the space of two half Hours; If thou hold out, I make no doubt, But the Ship and Goods are ours. In troth, sweet Robin, I cannot, He hath got me about the Middle; He’s lusty and strong, and hath laid me along, O Robin thou’st lost thy Fiddle. If I have lost my Fiddle, Then am I a Man undone; My Fiddle whereon I so often play’d, Away I needs must run. O stay the Merchant said, And thou shalt keep thy place; And thou shalt have thy Fiddle again, But Peggy shall carry the Case. Poor Robin hearing that, He look’d with a Merry-chear; His wife she was pleas’d, and the Merchant was eas’d, And jolly and brisk they were. The Fidler he was mad, But valu’d it not a Fig; Then Peggy unto her Husband said, Kind Robin play us a Jigg. Then he took up his Fiddle, And merrily he did play; The Scottish Jigg and the Horn pipe, And eke the Irish Hey. It was but in vain to grieve, The Deed it was done and past; Poor Robin was born to carry the Horn, For Peggy could not be Chast. Then Fidlers all beware, Your Wives are kind you see; And he that’s made for the Fidling Trade, Must never a Merchant be. For Peggy she knew right well, Although she was but a Woman; That Gamesters Drink, and Fidlers Wives, They are ever Free and Common.
