39
His wife oft chid him at this timely rate:—
‘My dear! what, in the name of common sense,
Has taken such a hold on you, of late?
What plea have you to offer in defence
Of all your present sloth and impotence?
Rouse up, good man! bestir your lazy feet,
Or ruin sure will be the consequence;
Unless you labor what have we to eat?
For scarcely when we work the year's two ends will meet.’
‘My dear! what, in the name of common sense,
Has taken such a hold on you, of late?
What plea have you to offer in defence
Of all your present sloth and impotence?
Rouse up, good man! bestir your lazy feet,
Or ruin sure will be the consequence;
Unless you labor what have we to eat?
For scarcely when we work the year's two ends will meet.’
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