THE WEEK'S WORK
When I was a bachelor brave,
Enjoying all my soul could have,
My silver and guineas I then let fly,
I cock'd up my beaver, and who but I.
Fal, lal, &c.
I rov'd about, and I rov'd a while,
Till all the ladies seem'd to smile,
From the ladies of pleasure to royal Joan,
Both gentle and simple was all my own.
My rapier was made of the Bilbo blade,
My coat and waistcoat were overlaid
With silver spangles so neat and so gay,
As tho' I had been king of some country play.
Besides I had a flattering tongue,
The ladies admired me when I sung,
For I had a voice so charming and fine,
That every lady's heart was mine.
On Monday morning I married a wife,
And thought to have liv'd a sober life,
But as it fell out I had better been dead,
Then mark the time that I was wed.
On Tuesday morn to my surprise,
A little before the sun did rise,
She tun'd up her clapper, and scolded more,
Than ever I heard in my life before.
On Wednesday morn I went to the wood,
I thought in my heart she'd never be good,
I cut me a twig of the holly green,
I think 'twas the toughest ever seen,
I brought it home, and laid it by.
On Thursday I went the same to try,
And if she would no better be,
The devil might take her to-morrow, for me.
On Friday morn, to my surprise,
A little before the sun did rise,
She tun'd up her clapper in a scolding tune,
And now you shall hear we parted soon.
On Saturday morn, as I may say,
As she, on her pillow, consulting lay;
The devil came in the midst of the game,
And took her away both blind and lame.
On Sunday, friends, I can dine without
A scolding wife, or a brawling out,
Enjoying my bottle, and my best friend,
And is not this a noble week's-work end.