He’s prone to sin continualee.
He horrors has, he oft doth kick,
He prances, yells, he will not work,
Sometimes I think he is too sick;
Sometimes I think he tries to shirk,
But ’tis hard for her in either case
Who B Bobbit was in happier days.
Happier? Away! Such things I spurn,
I count it true from spring to fall
’Tis “better to be wed and groan