Page:Bad wife (2).pdf/3

 Poor simple youth, I hadna skill,

But thought that she was like mysel',

For love and unity, man.

But when the fatal knot was tied,

I found I was betray'd, man:

For she was fill'd wi' nought but strife,

And foolish empty pride, man.

I sit as mute as mute as only sot,

Wi’ no a word out o' my throat,

Till o'er my head the chamber-pot

In twenty pieces it is broke,

And then I'm forc’d to flee, man.

And if her wants I can't supply,

She'll flee like fire on me, man:

And let the pinch be ne'er so great,

She cries aloud for tea, man.

And if I bid her gang to wirk,

She flees at me like ony Turk:

Wi’ venom she would cut my throat,

Or shoot me dead upon the spot:

She's fill’d with cruelty, man.

Some say that I should thresh her weel

And I shou’d tann her hide, man:

The oil o' a gude hazel rung

They say, would lay her pride, man.

But I dinna like to try that plan,

It makes but little of a man