THE BAD WIFE.
O, Jamie, lad, hear my advice,
And warning tak' by me, man,
For if ye get a wife like me,
You'll ru't until ye die, man,
For when that I was in my youth,
Like you I then could quench my drought,
But now I dare na weet my mouth,
For Maggy's tongue,—deil drive her south,
To some place far awa', man.
On Sunday, if I speir for Will,
She swears I'm seeking drink, man;
Then o'er my head, with furious rage,
The tangs aloud will clink man.
This is the life that I must bear,
She'll oft haurl out my very hair,
And then she'll rage, and curse, and swear
And cry ye dog, I'll gi'e ye mair,
Tho' for you I should die, man.
And, Jamie, when I got her first,
I thought myself enrich'd man,
Her beauty and her bonny claes
They had me sae bewitch'd man;
I had na power to see her ill,
She led me captive at her will,
