My Wife as I get it doth spend it away;
And I cannot help it, she saith; wot ye why?
For wedding and hanging comes by destiny.
I thought when I wed her, she had been a Sheep,
At board to be friendly, to sleep when I sleep:
She loves so unkindly, she makes me to weep.
But I dare say nothing, god wot; wot ye why?
For wedding and hanging comes by destiny.
Besides this unkindness whereof my grief grows,
I think few Tylers are matcht to such shrows,