Nursery Rhyme. CCCCLXXVII. Love And Matrimony.

    I married my wife by the light of the moon,
        A tidy housewife, a tidy one;
    She never gets up until it is noon,
        And I hope she'll prove a tidy one.

    And when she gets up, she is slovenly laced,
        A tidy housewife, a tidy one;
    She takes up the poker to roll out the paste,
        And I hope she'll prove a tidy one.

    She churns her butter in a boot,
        A tidy housewife, a tidy one;
    And instead of a churnstaff she puts in her foot,
        And I hope she'll prove a tidy one.

    She lays her cheese on the scullery shelf,
        A tidy housewife, a tidy one;
    And she never turns it till it turns itself.
        And I hope she'll prove a tidy one.

Unknown

Unknown

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Unknown

English

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