THE POOR WHORES' COMPLAINT



Come listen a while and you shall hear

How the poor whores fare in the winter.

They've hardly any rags to hide their wares

Indeed 'tis a desperate thing, sir.

With their draggel tails nine inches deep

And hardly a shoe or a stocking,

Yet if a cull they by chance should meet

At him they will be bobbing.



Says Molly, "I think my case very hard,

For I can get no money";

Says Nancy, "I think mine's as bad,

For last night I earned but a penny."

All night we freeze with our cull in the cold

Till the constable he comes early

Then he packs us away for being so bold

So we pay for whoring severely.

Says Sally, "I think I've the worst luck of all,

Since I have been a-whoring

I've never before been without a smock

Although it was ne'er such a poor one.

Though I trudge the streets all night in the cold

My rags men are pulling and haling.

Old Nick I'm sure would not be a whore

It's grown such a hell of a calling."



Then straightaway young Nell replied,

"What signifies complaining?

You know you're all poxed and so am I

And that indeed's our failing.

We swarm like bees at every street end

Catching at every fellow,

Let him be ever so poxed or clean

We 're always ready to follow. "



There's some that wears silk and satin gay,

'Tis them who gets the money;

With their next neighbour they slyly play

And call him their joy and their honey.

While he with money can supply

They're always ready to serve him,

While his poor wife and children left at home

For bread are almost starving.



Likewise all you men with handsome wives,

Take care they don't forsake you,

For if they want money, as sure as your life

They will a cuckold make you.

They'll graft such a pair of horns on your head

That you can hardly bear them,

They're such cunning jades if you don't take care

They'll force you for to wear them.



Before those privy whores were known

In town to be so plenty,

We common girls had better luck,

Then men were not so dainty.

They brought to us brave English quills

And we would bite and pinch them,

If we set them on fire at both ends at once

The devil he may quench them.



cull = man/customer; set them on fire = gave them the pox.

Words from a 17th century broadside; tune: Ladies of London



@bitching @England

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