An’ less an’ less he brings me in

Of the little he now has strength to win.

The roof lets through the wind an’ the wet,

An’ master won’t mend it with us in’s debt:

An’ all looks every day more worn,

An’ the best of my gowns be shabby an’ torn.

No wonder if words hav’ a-grown to blows;

That matters not while nobody knows:

For love him I shall to the end of life,

An’ be, as I swore, his own true wife.