Poor man's counsel, or, The married man's guide/The Dumb Woman Turn'd Scold

The Dumb WOMAN turn'd Scold.

THere was a bonny blade,
⁠Had marry'd a country maid,
And ſafely conducted her home, home, home;
⁠She was neat in ev'ry part,
⁠And ſhe pleas'd him to the heart,
But ah! alas! ſhe was dumb, dumb, dumb.

⁠She was bright as the day,
⁠And briſk as the May,
And as round & as plump as a plumb, plumb, plumb,
⁠But ſtill the ſilly ſwain,
⁠Could do nothing but complain,
Becauſe that his wife ſhe was dumb, dumb, dumb.

⁠She could brew, and ſhe could bake,
⁠She could ſew, and ſhe could make,
She could ſweep the houſe with a broom, broom, broom,
⁠She could waſh, and ſhe could wring,
⁠She could do any kind of thing;
But ah! alas, ſhe was dumb, dumb, dumb.

⁠To the doctor then he went,
⁠For to give himſelf content,
And to cure his wife of the mum, mum, mum:
⁠O! 'tis the eaſieſt part,
⁠That belongs unto my art,
For to make a woman ſpeak that is dumb, dumb, dumb.

⁠To the doctor he her brings,
⁠And he cuts her chatt'ring ſtrings,
And at liberty he ſets her tongue, tongue, tongue,
⁠Her tongue began to walk,
⁠And ſhe began to talk,
As tho' ſhe had never been dumb, dumb, dumb.

⁠Her faculty ſhe tries,
⁠And ſhe fill'd the houſe with noiſe,
And ⟨ſhe⟩ rattl'd in his ears like a drum, drum, drum,
⁠⟨She⟩ bred a deal of ſtrife,
⁠⟨Made⟩ him ⟨weary⟩ of his life
He'd give any thing ſhe was dumb, dumb, dumb.

⁠To the doctor then he goes,
⁠And thus he vents his woes,
Oh! doctor you’ve me undone, undone, undone;
⁠For my wife ſhe’s turn’d a ſcold,
⁠And her tongue can never hold,
I’d give any kind of thing ſhe was dumb, dumb, dumb.

⁠When I did undertake
⁠To make thy wife to ſpeak,
It was a thing eaſily done, done, done,
⁠But it’s paſt the art of man,
⁠Let him do what e’er he can,
For to make a ſcolding wife hold her tongue, tongue, tongue.