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If he goes to the alehouse to drink with a friend,
His wife follows after to see what he spends;
Crying, Come along home you son of a whore,
Your mugs and your glasses I'll kick to the floor.
For those brawling women that can't have their will,
They sham themselves drunk, or else very ill;
No, nor ever was guilty of any bad crime.
'Till their husbands catch'em, then it's the first time.
Whilst a man is working and toiling for wealth,
His wife on her bed is consulting her health;
With her gossipping crew around her all day,
If they sit e'er so long, they'll cry they can't stay.
So a man that is single he lives at his ease,
Get drunk, or keep sober, he does as he please,
No wife to controul him, no children to cry;
How happy's the man that a batchelor dies.
FAULTS ON BOTH SIDES.
Come wife sit down by me, I pray thee draw near,
For now I'm resolv'd your faults you shall hear,
My anger you get and my passions you rouze,
To offer to lord it so over your spouse;
When marry'd, you know, you vow'd to obey,
But say what I will, you'll have your own way,
I pray madam tell me; what is it you mean?
Don't think I'll bear these affronts you bold queen.
Your bed in the morning so highly you prize,
Till ten or eleven you seldom can rise,
And then you're resolv'd to have your desire,
And straight goes the tea-kettle over the fire.
