--For she was such a scold--

And in her eye he could descry a spark that well he knew
Into a flame would rise;
So he was dumb, silent and glum, as the small "chay" he drew,
And ventured no replies.

Slip, slop, and slush! past hedge and bush, the dripping mortals go
(Tho' 'twas "no go" S____ thought);
"If this 'ere's fun, vy I for vuu," cried he, with face of woe,
"Von't soon again be caught.

"Vet to the skin, thro' thick and thin, to trapes ain't to my mind;
So the next holiday
I vill not roam, but stick at home, for there at least I'll find
The means to soak my clay.

"Tis quite a fag, this 'chay' to drag--the babbies too is cross,
And Mrs. S____ is riled.
'Tis quite a bore; the task is more--more fitt'rer for an horse;
And vith the heat I'm briled!

"No, jaunts adoo! I'll none o' you!"--and soon they reach'd their home,
Wet through and discontent--
"Sure sich a day, I needs must say," exclaim'd his loving spouse,
"Afore I never spent!"