BALLAD. ('Twas in a village, near Castlebury)

'Twas in a village, near Castlebury, A cobler and his wife did dwell; And for a time no two so merry, Their happiness no tongue can tell.

But to this couple, the neighbours tell us, Something did happen that caus'd much strife, For, going to a neighb'ring alehouse, The man got drunk and beat his wife.

But though he treated her so vilely, What did this wife, good creature, do? Kept snug, and found a method slily, To wring his heart quite through and through:

For Dick the tapster, and his master, By the report that then was rife, Were both in hopes, by this disaster, To gain the cobler's pretty wife.

While things went on to rack and ruin, And all their furniture was sold, She seem'd t' approve what each was doing, And got from each a purse of gold.

So when the cobler's cares were over, He swore to lead an alter'd life, To mind his work, ne'er be a rover, And love no other but his wife.