Rock the Baby Joan:  
OR, 
john his Petition to his loving Wife joane,  
To suckle the Babe that was none of her own.   
To the Tune of, Under and over.  


O jone   

A Young man in our Parish,  
His wife was somewhat currish.  
For she refused to nourish  
a child which he brought home:  
He got it on an other,  
And death had ta'en the mother,  
The truth he could not smother,  
all out at last did come:  

Suckle the Baby,  
huggle the Baby,  
Rock the Baby jone.  
I scorn to suckle the Baby,  
Unless it were mine own.    

His wife cried out on one day,  
I think it was on Sunday,  
The next day being Monday,  
his Wench in sunder fell:  
The Dad on't she descried,  
Which having done, she died,  
This could not be denied,  
alas he knew't too well.  

Suckle the Baby, etc.    

The Parish him enforced  
To see the Infant nursed,  
He being but lightly pursed,  
desired to save that charge:  
He brought it to his own wife,  
Whom he loved as his own life:  
To her the case was known rife,  
he told her all at large.  

Suckle the Baby, etc.    

Quoth he my jone my déerest,  
Thy love to me is nearest,  
Thy virtue will shine clearest,  
in doing this good deed:  
This Infant young is left here,  
Unable to make shift here,  
'twill be of life bereft here,  
unless thou do it feed.  

Suckle the Baby, etc.    

Away thou false Deceiver,  
Quoth she farewell for ever,  
I am resolved never  
To love thee as I did:  
Alas quoth he my honey,  
I would not for any money,  
By thee my sweetest coney,  
to be so shrewdly chid.  

Suckle the Baby, etc.    

Although I loved his mother,  
I'll vow to love none other,  
What needst thou keep this pother,  
since she (poor wretch) is dead:  
No more she can thee trouble,  
And 'twould be charges double,  
If every month a Noble  
I pay for milk and bread.  

Suckle the Baby,  
Huggle the Baby,  
Rock the Baby jone.  
I scorn to suckle the Baby,  
Unless it were mine own.     

The second part.  
To the same tune.  

To thee I make my moan,  
O rock the cradle jone.  
So I may have my will,  
I'll love thy Baby still.   

T●●… sold be to my discredit,  
Should I both board and bed it,  
For never woman did it  
to a Bastard in this kind.  
O 〈◊〉 leave off this fashion,  
'twill be thy commendation  
To take commiseration,  
let not the child be pinned.  

Suckle the Baby, etc.    

What if the brat be starved?  
Experience hath observed  
It should not be preserved  
by her that is thy wife.  
Thy patience will appear more,  
O take it juggie therefore.  
Bear with my fault, for wherefore  
should we continue strife?  

Suckle the Baby, etc.    

I doubt I shall be forced,  
From thee to be divorced,  
Thy brood shall ne'er be nursed,  
by me nor by my cost.  
O wife be not so cruel,  
Thou know'st thou art my jewel,  
Be certain if thou do well,  
thy labour is not lost.  

Suckle the Baby, etc.    

My neighbours will deride me,  
And none that dwell beside me  
Will evermore abide me  
for such a Precedent.  
No jone thou art mistaken,  
'twill other wives awaken,  
Then let some course be taken  
for the child's nourishment.  

Suckle the Baby, etc.    

Let patiented Gristles story,  
Be still in thy memory,  
Who won a lasting glory,  
through patience in like sort:  
Although it touch thee nearly,  
This Barn that looks so cheerly,  
Shall bind me still more dearly,  
to love thee better for't.  

Suckle the Baby, etc.    

Well john thy intercession  
Hath changed my disposition,  
And now upon condition  
thou'lt go no more astray:  
I'll entertain thy Baby,  
And love it as well as may be.  
Do so (sweet jug) I pray thee,  
than this is a joyful day.  

Suckle the Baby,  
Huggle the Baby,  
Rock the Baby jone:  
I prithee jug love my Baby,  
And count it to be thine own.    

I have a Girl, I bore it  
But just a day before it,  
Although we be but poor yet,  
these two we will maintain:  
I'll suckle it, and dandle it,  
And very choicely handle it,  
And thou shalt soap and candle get:  
and thus between us twain,  

we'll suckle the Baby,  
And huggle the Baby.  
Gramercy honest jone.  
O john I'll rock thy Baby,  
As well as 'twere mine own.     
FINIS.   

Printed at London for H. G.