(2)
The BUXOM DAME of READING.
NEAR Reading there lived a buxom dame,
The wife of a cobler, Joan was, her name,
She had a fine hen of a delicate fize,
The like you never beheld with your eyes.
She had a red head, grey wings, yellow legs,
Each Summer she laid a bushel of eggs;
And Joan last Summer would set her indeed,
For she was resolv’d to have more of her breed.
And as she was setting her upon a day,
A shepherd came to her, and thus he did say;
Oh! what are you doing! she answer’d him then,
I’m going to set a miraculous hen.
Why, then says the shepherd, to keep the eggs warm,
And that they may prosper and come to no harm;
You must set the eggs in a large cuckold’s cap,
And then all the chickens will come to good hap.
I have ne’er a cuckold’s cap, shepherd, says she,
Dot nevertheless I will be ruled by thee,
Tor this very moment I’ll trudge up and down,
And borrow one, if there be one in the town.
She went to her neighbour, and thus she did say,
Come lend me thy cuckold’s cap, neighbour I pray,
I am going to set a miraculous hen,
And when I’ve done with it, I'll bring it again.
The neighbour’s wife answer’d, and thus reply’d,
Had I such a thing you should not be deny’d;
Years fourteen or fifteen I have been a wife,
And my husband had ne’er such a thing in his life.
But go to my cousin that lives at the mill,
She had one I know, and may have it still;
Till her I sent you, she’ll lend it I know;
I thank you, said Joan, and away she did go.
