Page:Unfortunate son, or, A kind wife is worth gold.pdf/18

 :is call’d a chamber-pot. To make water Jack had a like,
 * but he was loath to riſe

And if he did the bed bepiſs,
 * he thought it bad likewiſe.

At laſt he roſe and ſcratch’d about,
 * but all in vain, God wot!

In every place he made a rout,
 * but could not find the pot.

Under his father’s bed he creeps,
 * hoping to find one there.

The good old man now ſoundyſoundly [sic] ſleeps,
 * and nothing he doth hear.

Two bird-lime pots there were
 * which the old man had in ſtore,

And ſo poor Jack was round beſet
 * with troubles evermore.

Jack thruſts his hands with might and main
 * into the bird lime pans

He could not get them out again,
 * but there be grumbling ſtands.

Round about the room he walks
 * with the lime pots on his hands,

Then often to himſelf he talks,
 * curſing of bird-lime pans,

He ſtamps, ſtares, fumes, and frets,
 * and ſhakes his head in vain,

And like a man beſide his wits,
 * to his wife he does complain.

When ſhe the jeſt did come to know,
 * ſhe could not chuſe but ſmile,