The Husband Who Met His Match

Home  |  Diddle Diddle or the Kind Lovers  |  The Fair Maid of Islington  |  Green Stockings (Instrumental)  |  The Jovial Lass or Dol and Roger  |  Mundanga Was  |  Lady of Pleasure (Instrumental)  |  The Old Wife  |  The Beehive  |  Blue Petticoats (Instrumental)  |  The Gelding of the Devil  |  The Maid's Complaint for Want of a Dil Doul  |  Oyster Nan  |  The Frolic (Instrumental)  |  The Husband Who Met His Match  |  The Jovial Broom Man  |  The Disappointment  |  The Lusty Young Smith  |  Greensleeves & Yellow Lace  |  The Jolly Brown Turd  |  Tom Making a Manteau  |  Lady Lie Near Me  |  Oh How You Protest  |  A Ditty Delightful of Mother Watkin's Ale  |  Mis Nelly (Instrumental)  |  What's New  |  Contact Us
 

The Husband Who Met His Match 

Text: Roxburghe Ballads. Tune: the original
tune specified on the broadsheet (Fain I Know
What I Know)
is lost, but another popular tune
Calleno, used here, fits perfectly

A riche wealthy batchelor thirty and odde,
Had now a new crotchet crept into his pate,
A wife he must have whatsoever betide
And well lined with rubbish to enrich his estate.

Fair maidens were offer'd him two, three and four,
Sufficient men's daughters with money to boot,
Yet his greedy mind did still gape after more.
For he said twas too little for him to go to'te.

Shall I for a paltry poore thousand pound
A young wench go marry with nothing but breed
Consume me in longings, in fashion and toyes,
Nor yet it is time and now will I take heed.

There is a brisk widow that dwelleth hard by,
In money ten thousand pounds hath in the least,
I'le spruce myself up then, incontinently
And to her I'll go us a suitering guest.

This batchelor soone did attaine his desire,
The day was appointed when they should be wed,
His youthful fair bride was but three score and ten
For she had but a tooth and a half in her head.

Some three or foure yeares did this bonny lasso live,
Then grim goodman death tooke her life clean away
And grief for her loss had the man almost sped,
But that a new widow his journey did stay.

His wife being buried next morning he went
Another spruce widdow agen for to see,
Where mounted on crutches be straight one espied,
Who in state of riches was better than she?

His mother's smock sure did this widdower wear,
For no sooner woo'd but he presently sped,
A licence he filched, and he married her straight,
Then she threw down her stilts and hobbled to bed.

Not full ten yearns older than was his last wife,
Was this same dried mummy that lay by his side,
With snorting and grunting she aired so the bed
That never had groome such a night by a bride.

But still did her money all perfume again,
And in a month after all bed rid did lye,
Seven winters and summers she lay at small ease,
And then she departed because she must die.

Fine hundred a year she augmented his state,
Ten thousand pounds cleare by the other he got,
Mean time of another spruce widow he heard,
Then he praised unto Jove that she might be his lot.

She seemed so compleate and so comely of shape
That he doted on her more than both of the rest
She said then, Sweet husband be not too dismaid,
For the truth must be knowne when you see me undressed.

Two rows of white teeth she took out of her mouth
And put 'em straight into a little round box,
A glass eye likewise she pulled out of her head,
Which made the man fear his wife had got pox.

Her pouldered curl'd locks, thut so fair did appeare,
Came off with more ease than a new scalded pig,

I wonder her husband could laughing forbear
When be saw his wife look like an ostridges egge.
Then straight away down stooped this comely sweet bride,
Unlaced and ungirded her neat wooden legge,

The bridegroom was like to run out of his wits,
For his eyes ne'er before did behold such a hagge.

Then for to revive him unto him she flung,
Her keys that did lead to treasure great store,
This made him to love her so both went to bed.
When he did embrace her what would you have more.

Such luck had this husband to tumble them o'er,
That ere one month changed she ended her life.
A rich wealthy miser invited him home
And said "If you please Sir, I'll show you a wife."

He showed him a daughter, a girl of fifteen,
But she would no ling nor favour him show,
Her friends made the match, and they married with speed,
But she ne'er endured him I tell you so.

This young married wife to such cunning was grown,
That she fell a longing his coin for to waste.
French kickstrawes of ten pounds a dish she would have
With other dear meats for to fit her fine tastes.

No physick, no doctors, no cost did she spare.
On pride and new fangles she set her delight.
Her husband began for to savour of feare,
And to wish that she ne'er had been seen in his sight.

No love nor like this young wife 'ere had.
Because she was forced to be wed to her hate.
He sickened and died and was laid in his grave
So she did enjoy his three widows estate.

A young man that first was the widows true love,
With all expedition they made their dispatch
For wedding and bedding they both mere agreed
And the three widows husband did meet with his match.


Copyright © 2001-2020 by The Jack Horntip CollectionConditions of Use.