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The Lancashire Cuckold: OR, THE Country Parish-Clark betray'd by a Conjurer's Inchanted Chamber-pot.
To the Tune of, Fond Boy, &c.
Licensed according to Order,
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[illustration]
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A Lancashire Farmer he had a fair Wife,
Whom the Clark of the Parish did love as life;
In the pleasures of Love they would frolick and play,
Now her kind loving Husband grew jealous they say:
To a cunning Man therefore the Farmer did go,
To be told whether he was a Cuckold or no.
The Conjurer cry'd, If my counsel you'll take,
Then to morrow right pleasant good sport I will make,
For I have a strong Charm that will lock them all fast,
And as pleasant a Pipe, that at every blast,
All that hears it shall caper and dance too and fro,
And you'll find by this if you'r Cuckold or no.
Go tell your kind Wife you must ride out with speed,
And you shall not return till the next day indeed;
Now to keep yourself warm take your cloak and your gown;
There's an old hollow Oak half a mile out of Town,
In that very same Tree if you ••odge b••t all night,
The next morning I'll show you a delicate sight.
The Farmer resolving this pro••ect to try,
With the Conjurer's humour he straight did comply;
Having told his sweet Wife he must ride out of Town,
She began with a sorrowful sigh to look down;
Yet his back being turn'd, for her Gallant she sent,
That all night they might revel in joys with content.
Against the Clark's coming, a capon she drest,
Vnto which they had humming March-beer of the best,
When the Supper was ended, to bed they did high,
All the night in their wanton imbraces to lye;
But before the next morning there was a strange rout,
Which the cunning Man he by his Charms ••••ought about.
The Conjuring-Schollar got in by his skill,
Where he lay full as safe as a Thief in a Mill;
In the Piss-pot he fixt such a Charm at the last,
That who e'er toucht the sam•• ••••••ld be sure to stick fast;
Now the Clark to make water near morning did rise,
Then the Piss-pot was lockt fast betwixt his two thighs.
The Farmer's far Wife she rose up in her shift,
For to help her poor Lover out at a dead lift;
On his delicate Dildoul her right hand she got,
With the left hand she seiz'd on the side of the Pot,
Where she tug'd and she pull'd till she made her arms ake,
For she likewise stuck fast like a Bear to a stake.
In this sad distress with her foot she did knock,
Then her Daughter she straightways run up in her smock.
Quoth the Mother, Girl, help us and make no excuse,
Sure the Pot is bewitch'd for we cannot get loose;
Pretty Nancy endeavour'd to set them both free,
But as soon as she touch'd it they stuck there all three.
The cunning Man open'd the door, being day,
On his Conjuring pipe he began for to play;
Naked all but their shifts they did caper and dance
Through the Town, till they met with a Tailor by chance,
Who would needs break the Pot, being lusty and strong,
But he stuck fast and likewise went dancing along.
He piping did lead them along the highway,
Till they came to a place where her Husband he lay,
Who when hearing a noise, he peep'd out of the Oak
Like a Man that was frighted, the first words he spoke,
He cry'd, What my friend Richard the good Parish-Clark
Is it you then that tickles my Wife in the dark.
Now when they had caper'd three times round the Oak,
Then the Spell or Enchantment immediately broke;
The poor Tailor he run, but the Clark staid behind.
Quoth the Farmer, By you I'm a Cuckold I find;
If for this foul offence, I am not satisfy'd,
I'll immediately whip out your nutmegs, he cry'd.
The Clark he did proffer to give him ten pound,
For it was but a trespass, he said, on his ground;
But the Farmer no less then a hundred would have,
And the other did give it his Nutmegs to save;
Their apparel was sent for, and when they were drest,
They went all to the Ale-house, and laug'd at the iest.