Page:Dearest Helen.pdf/5

 The butcher he bethought himself he'd best provided be, For fear the taylor and his wife should play a trick on he; He took a brace of pistols, and put them on the bed, Which made the taylor quake for fear, and look like one quite dead.

What is this that stinks so, the butcher he did say, It is my husband's little dog that under the bed doth lye. If 'tis your husband’s little dog, I'll turn him out of the room, I beg you will be still, my dear, 'tis only a little poltroon.

The butcher he arose, and there he chanced to spy One of the taylor's legs, who under the bed did lie: If this be your husband’s little dog, I'll kill him out of spite— O spare my life, the taylor cried, and you may kiss my wife.

Now said the butcher, let you and I agree, That I may come whene'er I please, your loving wife to see, With all my heart, the taylor said, you are welcome to my wife, never was so frightened before in all my life.