Page:Poor man's labour never done, or, The mother's advice.pdf/2



Hen I was a batchelor I lived rarely,

and my mind it was content;

I married a wife for to lie by me,

which makes me now for to lament.

When I became a ſervant to her,

I milk'd her cow and black'd her ſhoon,

Womens' ways they muſt have pleaſure,

the poor man's labour's now begun.

In the morning when I do riſe,

for fear my work ſhould be behind,

My wife's in bed to twelve o'clock,

the ſhorteſt day in the winter time.

When I come in both wet and weary,

cold and wet I cannot ſhun,

My wife's in bed, has on no fire,

the poor man's labour's never done.

The firſt half year that we were married,

I could hardly take one night's ſleep,

She'd nip my ſhins till the blood did trinkle,

ſaying, huſband dear ſtreach down your feet.

When I aſk'd what was the reaſon,

ſhe cries husband, Come, come, come;

Womens' way they muſt have pleaſure,

the poor man's labour's never done.