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She bawls, You're very nice forſooth!
and bids me chew my quid.
And ſhe's ay, ay ſtarving me, &c:
Altho' I am as patient ay
as Socrates or Job,
Yet my ill-natur'd Jezebel
full ſoundly does me drub;
And when her barlick-hoods are on,
(which is right oft the caſe,)
What firſt ſhe lays her hands upon,
comes whack acroſs my face!
And ſhe's ay, ay thumping me, &c.
No man can reliſh more than I,
a bottle and a friend;
But this is what I ne'er enjoy,
leſt I ſhould her offend.
Laſt night my neighbour Tom and I,
ſat down, our throats to wet.
She thunder'd out ſo dreadfully,
I think I hear her yet!
And ſhe's ay, ay deaving me, &c.
When I'm diſpos'd for merriment,
ſhe's certain to be ſad:
