She Is Overheard Singing
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h, Prue she has a patient man,And Joan a gentle lover,And Agatha's Arth' is a hug-the-hearth,--But my true love's a rover! Mig, her man's as good as cheeseAnd honest as a briar,Sue tells her love what he's thinking of,--But my dear lad's a liar! Oh, Sue and Prue and AgathaAre thick with Mig and Joan!They bite their threads and shake their headsAnd gnaw my name like a bone; And Prue says, "Mine's a patient man,As never snaps me up,"And Agatha, "Arth' is a hug-the-hearth,Could live content in a cup;" Sue's man's mind is like good jell--All one colour, and clear--And Mig's no call to think at allWhat's to come next year, While Joan makes boast of a gentle lad,That's troubled with that and this;--But they all would give the life they liveFor a look from the man I kiss! Cold he slants his eyes about,And few enough's his choice,--Though he'd slip me clean for a nun, or a queen,Or a beggar with knots in her voice,-- And Agatha will turn awakeWhile her good man sleeps sound,And Mig and Sue and Joan and PrueWill hear the clock strike round, For Prue she has a patient man,As asks not when or why,And Mig and Sue have naught to doBut peep who's passing by, Joan is paired with a puttererThat bastes and tastes and salts,And Agatha's Arth' is a hug-the-hearth,--But my true love is false!
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