The naughty wife of Reading

 

A play of a story in verse

 

By Geoffrey Cooper

 

 

There was once an olde Reading clerke

And Absalom was his name

Who had a beauteous wife

Esther Mae, a comely dame.

 

Absalom, a right grumpy man

Also a very jealous churl,

But pretty little Esther Mae

Was a very lively girl.

 

One early morn Absalom came home

To write with quill of feather

Found our pretty Esther Mae

Outside in the all together.

 

“Wench” he cried, “What are you doing?”

“Picking flowers as you can see

The sunne was shining in the sky

I like to keep cool and free”.

 

“But who goes there, through the bushes

Call me jealous and rather vicious

But that naked man running there

Makes me a trifle suspicious”.

 

Esther laughed a merrie giggle

“My dear you’ve such a jealous habit

That which you see hopping there

Is but a little bunny rabbit.”

 

Absalom muttered to himself

“She must think I’m a thick ‘un

That rabbit I saw running there

Was surely little Dickon.”

 

Little Dickon, a cobbler’s lad

A boy with big ambitions,

While Esther was a upright wife

She just lacked inhibitions.

 

They planned a trip in sunny June

To Canterbury in the vale of Kent

But Absalom had a cunning plan

To make sure just where Esther went.

 

 

So Absalom went to his shed

And worked with strength and vigour

To make a wooden chastity belt

That fitted Esther’s figure.

 

To Canterbury in the cart they went

Strong Absalom and Little Dickon

Esther Mae sat in the back

Her waist a trifle thick ‘un.

 

That night they slept beneath the stars

Absalom snored away all night

When at last the morning came

He checked to see if all was right.

 

Esther may looked most content

As though nothing really mattered

When he checked her chastity belt

He found that it had shattered.

 

Esther explained what happened

A woodpecker looking for a nest

Hopped up and saw her lying there

Pecked and hammered at her vest.

 

Of course he knew this must be true

So they had no need to linger

To Canterbury these pilgrims went

Dickon had a splinter in his finger.

 

So my advice to fellow men

Is don’t rely on pants of wood

Because there is a simple fact

They really do no blooming good.