The Young Man?s Complaint

That is a most excellent ditty,
They sing now in praise of the fair
Of a good old woman quite true and pretty,
But alas what has fell to my share,
I thought I had marry?d a woman,
Thro? life would have made my heart glad,
And such disapointments have met with.
Sufficient to make a man mad.
When I do come to my breakfast,
I find the dear creature in bed.
And when I come home to my dinner,
She is sick, with her hands to my head.
And at night when I come home from my labour,
The first news that sounds in my ear,
Pray do not make words with my neighbor,
Your poor wife?s just carried up the stairs,
My things every week, to my grief, sir,
Find legs and walk out of the room,
And if about them I do speak, sir,
Cries, you cotting dogs, horns are your doom;
With gin foaming breath she does thunder,
I?m your lawful, you rogue, she does call,
I?ll borrow, I?ll pawn, strip and plunder,
And you, you dog, shall pay for all.
Now if I should go for to strike her,
Her insolence thus for to check,
By an unlucky blow I may kill her,
Then I must be hung by the neck.
So I think, like a wise politician,
To leave her will be the best thing,
And strive for to change my condition,
To one who contentment may bring.
The song say?s we?re beggars without them,
But this I most clearly do see,
If I was worth five hundred pounds, sir,
She would soon make a beggar of me,
So to find one that?s sober I?ll wander,
Some comfort to find in this life,
Then this marry?d jilt I have taken,
I leave for an unmarry?d wife.
But Heaven he prais?d there are some good,
To blame all for one?s not the thing,
For many a poor husband when sinking,
By his wife is held up by the chin;
Such as these are the blessing of nature,
When conjugal love they possess
And he that has got such a good creature,
With pleasure his choice he may bless