Here's one from the pen of Jake Thackray, the archetypal misogynist. I used to sing this one at a club with one very controlling female organiser, who ordered the audience to join in choruses. She never realised where it was pointing. Bless her heart, she was a very nice lady who really thought she needed to encourage the children (us).

She has passed on now and we sorely miss her. So here is the song, who's anti-heroine is nothing like her at all.

THE JOLLY CAPTAIN
As recorded by Jake Thackray on "Jake in a Box: The EMI Recordings 1967-1976" (2006)

1. There once was an old captain who wished nothing more
Than to live again his voyages and walk by the seashore--
A simple man, and a good man, but the bane of his life
Was his ill-tempered, bad-hearted bitch of a wife.
Though the jolly captain was plagued by her bile,
He smoked his long pipe and he smiled upon her tenderly.
He didn't like her much, but he loved her, despite her rough tongue.
The whey-faced old nag–bag had been his pretty darling once.

2. She fell down a staircase; she fractured her neck.
She lay upon the linoleum in a black apoplexy.
Her baleful eyes bulged with unspeakable abuse.
It seems that her spleen had been overproducing.
So the jolly captain carried her to bed.
"Close your poor eyes", he said. "Sleep a little peaceably."
He brought her fresh butter and cool watercress,
Violet and peppermint to soothe her heart's bitterness.

3. From her deathbed, she said: "If you marry when I die,
I'll crawl from my coffin to haunt you vexatiously."
With a howl and a scowl, with a shudder and a shake,
She spat out her peppermint and went to vex her maker.
The unhappy captain, so sad when she died,
He closed her wild eyes and he cried a bit on the Friday,
But he saw no good reason for wasting away,
So he married an apple-cheeked girl on the Saturday.

4. Alas, jolly captain, you married too soon.
She'll come to torment you from underneath her tombstone.
She'll scratch and she'll claw her way up from the grave,
Hacking her way back again with furious fingernails.
"No"! said the jolly captain. "She'll stay in her place.
She can scratch, she can scrape, till she's black in the face.
No! she won't come to haunt me, and taunt me, I know,
'Cos I buried her face downward; she's a long way to go".

Don T.