"THAT woman there is almost dead, Her feet and hands like heavy lead; Her cat's gone out for his delight, He will not come again this night. "Her husband in a pothouse drinks, Her daughter at a soldier winks; Her son is at his sweetest game, Teasing the cobbler old and lame. "Now with these teeth that powder stones, I'll pick at one of her cheekbones: When husband, son and daughter come, They'll soon see who was left at home." |