Is raking and scraping all he can,
The wife spends, every year,
Enough, you would think, for a score of wives,
To keep them in luxury all their lives!
The town is a perfect Babylon
To a quiet chap,” says Farmer John.
“You see, old Bay,
You see, old Gray,
I’m wiser than when I went away.
“I’ve found out this,” says Farmer John,