Translated by T. W. Harris, Esq., and another.
Hus.—Jane, tell me have you fed the pigs,
Their cry is not so fine:
And if you have not, don’t delay,
’Tis nearly half-past nine.
Wife.—There, now your noisy din begins,
Ding, ding, and endless ding,
I do believe your scolding voice
Me to the grave will bring.
H.—Were you to drop in there to-day,
This day would end my sorrow.
W.—But I shall not to please you, Mog,
To-day, nor yet to-morrow.
H.—Oh! were you, Jane, to leave this world,
W.—And you to beg and borrow,
H.—Stop, Jane, talk not so silly, Jane,
W.—Not at your bidding, never;
I’d talk as long as I thought fit,
Were I to live for ever.
H.—Your voice if raised a little more,
Would rouse the very dead,
A pretty noise, because I ask’d
If you the pigs had fed.