Page:Rob Roy Macgregor.pdf/3



Some men they do delight in hounds,

And some in hawks take pleasure,

Some do rejoice in war and wounds,

And thereby gain great treasure.

Some men do love on sea to sail;

And some rejoice in riding;

But all their judgments do them fail-

O! no such joy as chiding.

When in the morn I ope my eyes,

To entertain the day,

Before my husband e'en can rise,

I chide him—then I pray.

When I at table take my place,

Whatever be the meat,

I first do chide—and then say grace,

If so dispos’d to eat.

Too fat, too lean, too hot, too cold,

I ever do complain,

Too raw, too roast, too young too old—,

Faults I will find or feign.