WEEKS WORK COMPLETED C. Croshaw, Printer, Coppergate, York [between 1814 and 1850]
On Monday morning, I married a wife, Thinking to lead a sober life, But instead of being married, I had better been dead Than ever enjoy'd my marriage bed. Laddeio.
On Tuesday morning, to my surprise, A little before the sun did rise, She opened her clappers, began to roar. I thought in my heart she would never give o'er. Laddeio.
On Wednesday morning, I went into the wood, Thinking to do my wife a little good. I cut a twig of the holly so green, As fine a twig as ever was seen. Laddeio.
On Thursday morning, I put it to dry. On Friday morning, I did it try. I beat her back and beat her ribs Until I broke my holly twig. Laddeio.
On Saturday morning, she began to roar. I thought she'd never give o'er. The devil came in the height of the game And stole her away both blind and lame. Laddeio.
On Sunday noon I dined without A scolding wife or a brawling bout; So now I will enjoy my bottle and my friend, And have I not made a rare week's end? Laddeio.