He spends his wages in a rant,
An' leeaves his wife to pine or dee.
An' monny a time aw've ligged i' bed,
An' cursed my fate for bein poor,
An' monny a bitter tear aw've shed,
When thinkin ov sweet Mistress Moore.
For shoo's mi life
Is Johnny's wife,
An' tho' to love her isn't reet,
What con aw do,