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Joyful Widower

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The Joyful Widower

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The Joyful Widower

I married with a scolding wife
The fouteenth of November,
She made me weary of my life
By one unruly member.
     Long did I bear the heavy yoke
     And many griefs attended,
     But to my comfort be it spoke
     Now, now her life is ended.

We liv'd full one-and-twenty years
A man and wife together,
At length from me her course she steer'd
And gone I know not whither;
     Would I could guess, I do profess
     I speak and donot flatter
     Of all the women in the world
     I never would come at her.

Her body is bestowed well
A handsome grave does hide her,
But sure her soul is not in hell
The deil would ne'er abide her;
     I rather think she is aloft
     And imitating thunder;
     For why? methinks I hear her voice
     Tearing the clouds asunder.

From the Scots Musical Museum, Johnson & Burns
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