The married man's lament, or, Fairly shot of her/Fairly shot of her
FAIRLY SHOT of HER.
O Young men beware of waling a wife,
For I've got a devil as ever had life:
I thought her good crop, but I got but a rap of her,
O gin I were fairly ſhot of her,
Fairly, fairly, fairly ſhot of her,
If ſhe were dead, I would dance on the tap of her,
O gin I were fairly ſhot of her.
When I went to court her ſhe was meek and mild,
She ſeem'd to be dumb, till ſhe got me beguil'd,
Now ſhe roars like a mill, & her tongue is the clap of her,
O gin I were fairly ſhot of her, &c.
It was the other day I ſpoke to her grief,
She roar'd out like thunder and has put me deaf,
So if I get a merchant he's get a cheap pack of her,
O gin I were fairiy ſhot of her, &c.
She lies in her bed till twelve o' the clock,
Then cries Rogue come hither and warm me a ſmock,
Tho' not long ago there was none on the back of her,
O gin I were fairly ſhot of her, &c.
My cows will go yell, and my milk is still ſower,
As I have none to ſkim it till thrown out of door,
The cheeſe that ſhe makes is as tough as the dock of her
O gin I were fairly ſhot of her, &c.
And when ſhe up-riſes it's always in haſte,
To the piſs-pot or dung hill before ſhe be lac'd,
Then down by the fire, with ſtink you'll keep track of her,
O gin I were fairly ſhot of her, &c.
Of her thrift and her ſpinning, O then ſhe will tell,
When ſhe was a maiden was done by herſel,
But now on the fire ſhe will roaſt the nicknack of her,
O gin I were fairly ſhot of her, &c.
With her lovers and courtiers ſhe was chaſte as a dove,
Though now I find ſhe is pack’d full of love,
By ſome of her gallants who has ſprung a leck of her,
O gin I were fairly ſhot of her, &c.
For I found the babe leaping as I lay by her,
I got to my breeches and run to the fire,
And ſwore that another had gotten a jot of her;
O gin I were fairly ſhot of her, &c.
But ſhe cried out, dear honey be kind,
There’s nought in my belly but a rolling of wind;
But ſtill it increas’d till the midwife got Jack of her,
O gin I were fairly ſhot of her, &c.
Then I ſwore by my cheeſe who had gotten the dunt of her,
Counting the date that I came to the front of her,
It was but four months ſince I got the firſt wap of her
O gin I were fairly ſhot of her, &c.
I got this fire ſcold at the back of the moor,
She’s dirty, and lazy, and ill to the poor,
For which I’ve got up and I’ve broken the back of her
O well’s me now for I’m fairly ſhot of her, &c.
O could the prieſt free me that knit us together,
I’d ſwear againſt marriage and ne’er have anither,
But ſhe may go to him who got the firſt wap of her,
For ſwear from this day I’ll be fairly ſhot of her,
Fairly, fairly, fairly ſhot of her,
Tho’ ſhe is not dead, I am fairly quit of her,
O well’s me now I am fairly ſhot of her.