Oh! for a Husband, out she gently cries,
If he were here,——he would not let me rise;
But I must up, for Fear my Love should stay,
And we should be too late at the new Play.
Here, Jenny, reach my Slippers, bring the Pot;
Then out she jumps, and down she gives a Squat,
I think I need not tell you what to do,
And then she lets a merry Crack or two.
W. Overb--ry.