Bess the gawkie, or, Jamie slighted (1802)/The woman's praise of tea, with the man's answer

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The WOMAN'S PRAISE of TEA

Some men do rail against tea,
⁠and say that it makes butter dear,
But let them say all that they will,
⁠it's cheaper than brandy or beer.

They say they make butter with curd,
⁠when the wives do the best they can;
Who is it can blame a good woman,
⁠for doing the best for a man.

By the help of a man we were made,
⁠and over us they were to rule;
The man that denies his wife tea,
⁠has got no more wit than a fool.

There's a penny for a quartern of tea,
⁠a penny for sugar’s the price,
What man will deny his wife tea,
⁠as two pence will breakfast her twice.

When the best of the tea it is over,
⁠there's a dish for the children or maid,
It is cheaper than milk; or small beer,
⁠when to such fine ⟨ale⟩ it is made.

My husband he goes to an ale-house,
⁠and soon drinks two quarts of strong beer,
With a pipe to his mouth like a lord,
⁠says His wife has no buisness there.

He talks of the news of the nation,
⁠carouses with merry good cheer:
Denies his wife tea which is cheaper,
⁠than either good brandy or beer.

Tea and snuff is always my comfort,
⁠and’s been all ths days of my life,
The man that denies his wife tea,
⁠I wish him a sad drunken wife

There is some low-lif'd husbands says,
⁠He must buy butter and bread,
But the women will have their tea,
⁠when butter-milk husbands are dead.

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THE ANSWER.

Now Bet I have heard thy petitions,
⁠your praise in extolling of tea,
And if that you give no more reasons,
⁠thou's ne'er get a verdict from me.

It's said, that tea makes butter dear,
⁠but certainly that is not true
For as that you state your expenses,
⁠there's none of it eaten by you.

You count but for sugar and tea,
⁠then where is the butter and bread,
I judge you take something before it,
⁠or there is no teeth in your head!

Or dost thou like fish live on water?
⁠the costliest living I call;
On gin, rum, or good hot brandy,
⁠I judge thou’rt a tipler of all.

Then says that thy husband loves beer,
⁠tobacco, and nappy brown ale;
When thou lives on nothing but tea,
⁠and that of a penny each meal.

O happy’s the man that hath got thee,
⁠if thou earns but fourpence a day,
Then sixpence a week I’ll allow thee,
⁠to clothe thee in comely array.

As thou lives on nought but sweet water,
⁠to be sure a sweet wife thou must be,
But if ever I wed for the better,
⁠it’s ne’er be a lover of tea.

As at it they learn the poor fashion,
⁠cups reading, to clash and to lie,
And tell how Jack our of passion,
⁠he never gives comfort to me.

But turns his cold bum to my belly,
⁠and there he lies snoring all night,
He surely loves some other madam,
⁠or else I would have more delight.

I am kiss'd only twice in the week,
⁠and that’s a poor pitiful thing:
And oh! to be married again,
⁠for I love all things in the spring.