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JAMlE’s BAD WIFE.
O JAMIE lad, hear my advice,
And warnin’ tak’ by me, man;
For if ye get a wife like me,
You’ll rue’t until ye die, man;
For when lhrt I was in my youth.
Like you, I then cou’d quench my drouth,
But now I darena wet my mouth,
For Maggy’s tongue, de’il drive her south
To some place far awa’, man.
On Sunday, if I spier for Will,
She swears I’m seeking drink, man;
Then o’er my head, wi’ furious rage,
The tangs aloud will clink, man.
This is the life that I must bear,
She’ll harle out my very hair;
And then she’ll rage, and curse, and swear,
And cry, Ye dog, I’ll gi’e ye mair,
Tho’ for ye I should die, man.
And, Jamie, when I got her first,
I thought mysel’ enrich’d, man!
Her beauty, and her bonny claes
They had me sae bewitch’d, man.
I had nae power to see her ill,
She led me ⟨captive⟩ at her will,
Poor simple youth, I hadna skill,
But thought that she was like mysel’,
For love and unity, man.
