Old Morgan And His Wife

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.

W.--I'll raise my voice, Mog, louder still,

As sure as you were born,

Why should you ask "How many loaves

Came from the peck of corn?"

H.--Should not the master of the house

Know every undertaking?

W.--And wear his wife's own crinoline,

And try his hand at baking!

H.--The breeches you would like to wear!

W.--What vulgar jests you're making!

H.--Stop Jane, stop Jane, don't speak so loud,

Your noise will stun the cattle!

W.--The only noise that could do that

Is your continued rattle.

H.--As sounds a bee upon her back,

So does this wasp I've got,

And all because I ask'd if she

Had fed the pigs or not.

W.--Your peevish growling, Mog, is worse,

Yes, ten times worse and more,

Still asking, "How this churning gave

Less than the one before?"

H.--You know the butter pays our rent,

And many another matter.

W.--I know that if the cows are starved

They won't get any fatter!

H.--I give the cows enough to eat.

W.--Well do, and hold your clatter.

H.--Stop Jane, stop Jane, confound your noise,

'Twould shame a barrel organ.

W.--If I were half as loud as you,

I think it would, Old Morgan!

H.--Your temper, Jane, will drive me soon

To share a soldier's lot,

To march with gun and martial tune

'Midst powder, smoke, and shot.

W.--What! you a soldier? never, Mog!

Your heart is coward too,

You'll fight with no one but with me,

You've then enough to do!

H.--I'll go and fight the mighty Czar,

To aid the Turkish nation.

W.--Then go, a greater Turk than you

Breathes not within creation!

H.--For shame, to call your husband Turk.

W.--Such is my pledg'd relation.

H.--Stop Jane, stop Jane, let's now shake hands

And we'll be henceforth friends.

W.--No, not till you have stopp'd will I,

Be still, or make amends.