Soon as I reach’d this once blest, happy cot,
Feeding the pigs, came Partlet from the stye;
More kicks than halfpence I too surely got,
She seiz’d a broomstick, and knock’d out my eye.
A bandy cur, sworn foe to all our race,
Some few years past, when I was strong and plump,
Who, if I hiss’d, would run and hide his face,
Now boldly tears my breeches from my * * *
The wall-eye’d brute next bit me thro’ the leg:
A naughty boy too, out of wanton joke,