JENNY GRAHAME18th century
18th century
Alas! my son, you little know,The sorrows which from wedlock flow:Farewell, sweet hours of mirth and ease,When you have gotten a wife to please.Sae bide ye yet, and bide ye yet,Ye little ken what’s to betide ye yet,The half o’ that will gane you yetIf a wayward wife obtain you yet.Your hopes are high, your wisdom small,Woe has not had you in its thrall;The black cow on your foot ne’er trod,Which makes you sing along the road.When I, like you, was young and free,I valued not the proudest she;Like you my boast was bold and vain,That men alone were born to reign.Great Hercules and Sampson tooWere stronger far than I or you,Yet they were baffled by their dears,And felt the distaff and the shears.Stout gates of brass, and well-built walls,Are proof ’gainst swords and cannon-balls;But nought is found, by sea or land,That can a wayward wife withstand.
Alas! my son, you little know,The sorrows which from wedlock flow:Farewell, sweet hours of mirth and ease,When you have gotten a wife to please.Sae bide ye yet, and bide ye yet,Ye little ken what’s to betide ye yet,The half o’ that will gane you yetIf a wayward wife obtain you yet.Your hopes are high, your wisdom small,Woe has not had you in its thrall;The black cow on your foot ne’er trod,Which makes you sing along the road.When I, like you, was young and free,I valued not the proudest she;Like you my boast was bold and vain,That men alone were born to reign.Great Hercules and Sampson tooWere stronger far than I or you,Yet they were baffled by their dears,And felt the distaff and the shears.Stout gates of brass, and well-built walls,Are proof ’gainst swords and cannon-balls;But nought is found, by sea or land,That can a wayward wife withstand.
Alas! my son, you little know,The sorrows which from wedlock flow:Farewell, sweet hours of mirth and ease,When you have gotten a wife to please.Sae bide ye yet, and bide ye yet,Ye little ken what’s to betide ye yet,The half o’ that will gane you yetIf a wayward wife obtain you yet.
Alas! my son, you little know,
The sorrows which from wedlock flow:
Farewell, sweet hours of mirth and ease,
When you have gotten a wife to please.
Sae bide ye yet, and bide ye yet,
Ye little ken what’s to betide ye yet,
The half o’ that will gane you yet
If a wayward wife obtain you yet.
Your hopes are high, your wisdom small,Woe has not had you in its thrall;The black cow on your foot ne’er trod,Which makes you sing along the road.
Your hopes are high, your wisdom small,
Woe has not had you in its thrall;
The black cow on your foot ne’er trod,
Which makes you sing along the road.
When I, like you, was young and free,I valued not the proudest she;Like you my boast was bold and vain,That men alone were born to reign.
When I, like you, was young and free,
I valued not the proudest she;
Like you my boast was bold and vain,
That men alone were born to reign.
Great Hercules and Sampson tooWere stronger far than I or you,Yet they were baffled by their dears,And felt the distaff and the shears.
Great Hercules and Sampson too
Were stronger far than I or you,
Yet they were baffled by their dears,
And felt the distaff and the shears.
Stout gates of brass, and well-built walls,Are proof ’gainst swords and cannon-balls;But nought is found, by sea or land,That can a wayward wife withstand.
Stout gates of brass, and well-built walls,
Are proof ’gainst swords and cannon-balls;
But nought is found, by sea or land,
That can a wayward wife withstand.