Page 67 of Cora
When a married man from labour, in the eve returns home,
His parlour is his castle, and he has no cause to roam,
His supper is in readiness, his children are all fed,
And his wife will take the candle for to light him up to bed
To society a single man, can be of little use,
He moves about like an owl, & wanders like a goose
His breeches’ knees all torn, and his stocking lined with dirt,
And he lies in bed on Sunday, while a friend washes his shirt.
At breakfast time, and dinner time, about the streets he’ll hop,
He’s either in a public house, or in a coffee shop;
No vitals for him ready, while a married man at case,
Sits down to dine in comfort on whatever dish he please
A married man too happy be, at home can never fail,
A single man is like an ape, or dog without a tail,
No one to console him, or to comfort him through life,
Young men don’t rest but do your best to choose a loving wife.
You ladies mark you carefully, what I will now unfold.
King Solomon says a virtuous wife, is worth her weight in gold;
When Adam lived in paradise, he committed sin,
He ne’er knew old Eve his wife to pawn her clothes for gin.
In sorrow pain and poverty in sickness sore oppressed,
None like a faithful woman, that can share in man’s life,
She’ll nourish him & cherish him, and comfort him thro
There is nothing in this world like a faithful loving wife.
That man that would ill-use a wife I’d hang him to a tree
For in this world I do declare, he is not fit to be,
Some men are never satisfied, abroad or at home,
They can always see a woman’s fault, but will not see
their own
As the last chord vibrated into silence, Cora rose from the piano, bowed, kissed two outstretched fingers of each hand and raised them high in a salute. Her mirthless, triumphant eyes found his. “It has been a pleasure.” She bowed. “But now I must go.”
