Ballad—in the Cobler

Such usage as this is, what wise but myself Would put up with, and not sigh and sob; No cross in her pocket, no food on the shelf, Or what husband would let her but Snob? And yet, let me hope, though for every crime, He had more than there's days in the year, That his heart is so good, I should still see the time, When a different man he'd appear.

But if I'm deceiv'd, while another guess wife, So treated, would scold and revile; Though poor, though confined in a prison for life, With him I'd endeavour to smile. I love him, and every way I'll pursue, That I can, his affections to keep: And if then he should slight me, I've nothing to do, But to wish he were kinder, and weep.