Piper, wet your whistle,
Canst tell me a way now, how to cut off my wifes Concupiscence?
_Hig._ I'le sing ye a Song for't.
_The_ SONG.
_Take her, and hug her,
And turn her and tug her,
And turn her again boy, again,
Then if she mumble,
Or if her tail tumble,
Kiss her amain hoy, amain.
Do thy endeavour,
To take off her feaver,
Then her disease no longer will raign.
If nothing will serve her,
Then thus to preserve her,
Swinge her amain boy amain.
Give her cold jelly
To take up her belly,
And once a day swinge her again,
If she stand all these pains,
Then knock out her brains,
Her disease no longer will reign._
_1 Bo._ More excellent, more excellent, sweet Sow-gelder.
_2 Bo._ Three-pence a piece, three-pence a piece.
_Hig._ Will you hear a Song how the Devil was gelded?
_3 Bo._ I, I, let's hear the Devil roar, Sow-gelder.
SONG.
1.
_He ran at me first in the shape of a Ram,
And over and over the Sow-Gelder came;
I rise and I halter'd him fast by the horn,
I pluckt out his Stones as you'd pick out a Corn.
Baa, quoth the Devil, and forth he slunk,
And left us a Carcase of Mutton that stunk.
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