The Western Husband-man’s Complaint in the Late Wars
Uds bodykins! Chill work no more:
Dost think chill labour to be poor?
No ich have more a do:
If of the world this be the trade,
That ich must break zo knaves be made,
Ich will a blundering too. [plundering]
Chill zel my cart and eke my plow,
And get a zword if ich know how,
For ich mean to be right:
Chill learn to zwear, and drink, and roar,
And (Gallant leek) chill keep a whore, [like]
No matter who can vight.
God bless us! What a world is here,
It can ne’re last another year,
Vor ich can’t be able to zoe:
Dost think that ever chad the art,
To plow the ground up with my cart,
My beasts be all a go.
But vurst a Warrant ich will get
From Master Captaine, that a vet
Chill make a shrewd a do:
Vor then chave power in any place,
To steal a Horse without disgrace,
And beat the owner too.
Ich had zix oxen tother day,
And them the Roundheads vetcht away,
A mischiefe be their speed:
And chad zix horses left me whole,
And them the Cabbaleroes stole:
Chee voor men be agreed.
Here ich doe labour, toyl and zweat,
And dure the cold, with dry and heat,
And what dost think ich get?
Vaith just my labour vor my pains,
The garrisons have all the gains,
Vor thither all’s avet.
There goes my corne and beanes, and pease,
Ich doe not dare them to displease,
They doe zo zwear and vapour:
When to the Governour ich doe come,
And pray him to discharge my zum,
Chave nothing but a paper.
U’ds nigs dost think that paper will
Keep warme my back and belly fill?
No, no, goe vange thy note:
If that another year my vield
No profit doe unto me yield,
Ich may goe cut my throat.
When any money chove in store,
Then straight a warrant comes therefore,
Or ich must blundred be:
And when chave shuffled out one pay,
Then comes another without delay,
Was ever the leek azee? [like]
If all this be not grief enow,
They have a thing cald quarter too,
O’ts a vengeance waster:
A pox upon’t they call it vree, [“free quarters”]
Cham zure they make us zlaves to be,
And every rogue our master.