But aw've monny times sed, an' aw say it ageean,
'At women are ofter i'th' reight nor are th' men,
Just fancy gooin hooam to a bachelor's bed,
All shudderin an' shakkin yo lig daan yor heead.
There's a summat a wantin, 'at fills yo wi' fear,
Yo can turn as yo like, but you find it's not thear,
An' yo freeat an' yo fitter, or weep like a willow;
An' for want o' owt better, mak love to a pillow.
But him 'at's been blessed wi' a wife he can love,
Liggs his heead on her breast pure as snow from above,