All you that pass along, [35.] Give ear unto my song, Concerning a youth that was young, young, young; And of a Maiden fair Few with her might compare But alack, and alas, she _was dumb, dumb, dumb_. She was beautious, fresh and gay Like the pleasant Flowers in _May_, And her cheeks was as round, as a plum, plum, plum; She was neat in every part, And she stole away his heart, But alack, and alas, she _was dumb, dumb, dumb_. At length this Country Blade, Wedded this prety Maid, And he kindly conducted her home, home, home; Thus in her Beauty bright, Lay all his whole Delight But alack, and alas, she was dumb, dumb, dumb. Now will I plainly show What work this Maid could do, Which a Pattern may be, For girls young, young, young: O she both day and night In working took delight. But alack, and alas, she _was dumb, dumb, dumb_. [Illustration] She could brew, and she could bake, She could wash, wring and shake, She could sweep the house with a broom, broom, broom: She could knit and sow and spin, And do any such like thing But alack, and alas, she _was dumb, dumb, dumb_. But at last this man did go, The Doctor's skill to know, Saying, Sir, can you cure a Woman of the Dumb? O it is the easiest part, That belongs unto my Art, For to cure a Woman _of the Dumb, dumb, dumb_. To the Doctor he did her bring, And he cut her Chattering-string, And he set her Tongue on the run, run, run: In the morning he did rise, And she fill'd his house with cries, And she rattled in his ears like a drum, drum, drum. To the Doctor he did go, With his heart well fill'd with woe, Crying, Doctor, I am undone, done, done; Now she's turn'd a scolding Wife And I'm weary of my life, Nor I cannot make her hold her tongue, tongue, tongue. The Doctor thus did say, When she went from me away, She was perfectly cured of the dumb, dumb, dumb. But it's beyond the Art of Man, Let him do the best he can, For to make a scolding Woman hold her tongue, tongue, tongue. So as you to me came Return you back again And take you the Oyl of Hazel[F. 63] strong With it anoint her Body round, When she makes the House to sound, So perhaps you may charm her, tongue, tongue, tongue. [Footnote 62: For tune, see Appendix.] [Footnote 63: A hazel switch.] [26.] A Schoolmaster did always dictate to his Scholars. _H non est Litera_, that is H is no letter; and on a time he call'd one of the Scholars to him, and bid him _heat the Cawdle_, and when he askt for it, the Scholar told him, _that he had done with the Cawdle as he bid him_. _What's that?_ says his Master, _Why Sir_, says he, _I did eat it._ _Sirrah_, says he, _I bid you heat it with an H_. _Yes Sir_, says he, _But I did eat it with Bread_.