Poetry Explorer- Classic Contemporary Poetry, BETWEEN A CONTRACTOR AND HIS WIFE, by ANONYMOUS


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Classic and Contemporary Poetry

BETWEEN A CONTRACTOR AND HIS WIFE, by                    
First Line: "a good day's work, two contracts made"
Last Line: "I'll think of what must soon approach, / and fit myself to fit a coach"
Subject(s): Labor & Laborers;marriage;trade; Weddings;husbands;wives


He A GOOD day's work, two contracts made,
A very pretty swinging trade;
If these, with management and skill,
Won't buy a coach, then nothing will; I've got another in my eye,
That I shall talk of by and by;
And if I come upon it souse,
Why that will yield a country house.
She Husband, why don't you come to bed?
He I've other matters in my head.
She Yes, you have more than what are good,
And more by half than what you should;
You're all but what you ought to be,
You think of ev'ry thing but me.
He You jade, I think of you too much.
Hussy, I shall two contracts touch;
You shall in a gilt chariot ride,
There's eatables to feed your pride.
She Your pardon, husband, I'll entreat,
Indeed, my dear, my words I'll eat:
I did not think you'd been so kind,
You're a good deary now I find.
He Give me a kiss, ye coaxing jade,
I tell you that our fortune's made.
She My dear, your meaning pray explain.
What are the contracts? I'm in pain;
My spirits all are in a flutter,
I scarce know how a word to utter;
I do believe I shall not speak
Another syllable this week.
He But I believe, before you're dumb,
I shall be worth a double plumb;
But now the contracts._____
She _____Now my dear.
He Well, hussy, hold your tongue and hear.
Why, I'm to farm the parish poor,
And there's, you know, above eight score.
She Why, husband, sure you've lost your eyes.
D'ye look on that as such a prize?
I fear you'll plough a barren field,
The poor but poor allowance yield.
He Indeed the thing you quite mistake,
I'll pretty picking of them make.
I'll briskly put 'em all to work,
Like a taskmaster to a Turk;
Their labour shall their living clear,
The pay shall all be saved, my dear.
Somewhat perhaps in labour too
May to our private purse accrue;
They need not, ev'ry day they eat,
To be indulged, you know, with meat;
Because you know that living well,
As we can by experience tell,
Makes people fat, and fat, they say, To disobedience leads the way;
Then idleness o'er all descends,
And impudence besure attends:
So that I think that little food
Becalms the spirits and the blood:
Keeps down each thought to rant and riot,
And makes the half-starved creatures quiet.
She Why, what you say, my dear, persuades.
I've tried the maxim with my maids;
The worse they live, I needs must say,
By much the better they obey;
I think poor people ought to starve,
And that's e'en more than they deserve:
The punishment's too good by far,
They should be hanged or burnt, my dear.
He Aye, they may talk of liberty,
They shan't grow saucy under me;
For in the workhouse close confined,
I'll make them all their business mind;
A good taskmaster shall attend,
With arguments at a rope's end.
She The sick will at your profits strike.
He The sick and well shall fare alike;
Let them recover if they choose it,
Or die content if they refuse it;
The thing is all the same to me,
Let them and death alone agree.
She Aye, they howe'er sometimes must eat;
Love, with what butcher shall you treat?
He Tom Touzer is to find the meat,
Not over good you may suppose,
But I'll hear no appeals from nose:
I'll say it's good, and if they doubt it,
Why, they may freely go without it;
Tasting will clarify the brain,
And take out ev'ry stupid stain.
She But if they chance to die, my soul?
He Why, they'll be buried, that's the whole.
She I'm glad your conscience is not queasy,
And that you'll manage matters easy.
He No, no, I've laid a solid plan,
To act with prudence like a man:
Why, can the wretches think it cruel,
If they're oft fed with water-gruel?
Should I indulge a workhouse breed,
Why, it would be absurd indeed.
No, through the business I'll go stitch,
The poor I mean shall make me rich;
I'll bend the mongrels to my will,
And make their hands my pockets fill.
So of the vagrants there's an end,
On them no farther thoughts I'll spend.
To t' other contract we'll draw near:
It is to light the lamps, my dear;
The lamps themselves I must provide,
And find the oil and men beside.
She Oh! that will be a charming thing,
And you may live like any king.
He Finely the parish I'll beguile,
And cheat them both in men and oil;
For thus the business I'll pursue:
One man shall do the work of two.
Yet I shall still the sum enlarge,
And for a double number charge;
With oil I mean the lamps to stock,
To burn till only twelve o'clock.
She Suppose the people should complain?
He Whate'er they say will be in vain;
I'll swear there's num'rous rogues abroad,
That do the lamps of oil defraud;
That my men rob I will declare,
And make a tale of how I fare,
Yet say I must these ills endure,
Since I can't honester procure.
The vestry thus I shall amuse,
And they th' omissions will excuse.
For the parishioners, I say,
Should be at home ere close of day;
If not, why let them grope their way;
Or, if it chances, break their shins,
And let him slyly laugh that wins.
She You'll certainly a fortune raise;
How I admire your cunning ways!
He Aye, deary, you'll admire much more,
When I have run the thing quite o'er.
She Then let me hear—Come tell your wife,
Cheating's the pleasure of my life.
He Why, if the lamps are stol'n away,
The parish must the cost defray.
She Yes, but admitting that is true,
What will the profit be to you?
He The profit!—why, you silly elf,
I mean to steal the lamps myself.
She But will no danger come to you,
If, as you say, you chance to do?
He No, love, I shall contrive it so,
Old Nick himself shall hardly know;
I'll either steal the lamps or break 'em,
And they in statu quo must make 'em.
The glass-man is a Trojan brother,
And slyly will the matter smother;
Sell me again the lamps I steal,
Which he will for a while conceal;
Thus I shall gain a double prize,
And cheat the most discerning eyes.
She But I suppose for this concealing,
The glass-man has a fellow-feeling.
He Oh! that's but right and just you know,
From honour's rules I would not go;
There's honour among thieves 'tis clear;
Then with contractors be it dear.
She Contracting is a charming trade,
Since fortunes are so easy made;
I'll think of what must soon approach,
And fit myself to fit a coach.





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