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Nursery Rhyme. CCCCLXXVII. Love And Matrimony.
By Unknown
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.
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