Now Tim he woo’d a servant maid,
And took her to his arms;
For he, like Pyramus, had cast
A wall-eye on her charms.
V.
By day she led him up and down
Where’er he wish’d to jog,
A happy wife, altho’ she led
The life of any dog.
VI.
But just when Tim had liv’d a month
In honey with his wife,
A surgeon ope’d his Milton eyes,
Like oysters, with a knife.
VII.
But when his eyes were open’d thus,
He wish’d them dark again:
For when he look’d upon his wife,
He saw her very plain.
VIII.
Her face was bad, her figure worse,
He couldn’t bear to eat:
For she was any thing but like
A Grace before his meat.