’Twas wisely schemed with woman’s cunning wit
To snare him. I, from ancient date his foe,
Stood in most just suspicion. Now, ’tis done;
And I, succeeding to his wealth, shall know
To hold the reins full tightly. Who rebels
Shall not with corn be fatted for my traces,
But, stiffly haltered, he shall lodge secure
In darkness, with starvation for his mate.
Chorus.
Hear me yet once. Why did thy dastard hand