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Show GOOD MAN AND GOOD WIFE. From the ?? of Goethe, To morrow comes St. Martin's feast; The good wife loves her man, She makes for him the puddings now And bakes them in a pan. And now in bed they lie at rest, The west winds loudly roar, The good man says to his good wife, "Go bolt and bar the door." "I'm now at rest, half warm," she said, "My rest I cannot mar, And though it blows a hundred years I'll never slide the bar." And then they made a wager there, In whispered words and low, Who first should speak a word aloud To bar the door should go. At midnight came two travellers there Who wist not where they were; The lamps were out, the fire was cold, They heard no creature stir. "What haunted house is this?" they cried; Impatience filled the pair. But still they heard no mortal word, The door kept silence there. The snow-white puddling then they ate, The o'er the black one bowed, The good wife scolded to herself, But spoke no word aloud. To one of them the other spoke, "My throat is very dry! The open cupboard tells a tale Of spirits somewhere nigh. "A flask of schnapps I seize upon Which hits the nail aright, I drink thy health and thou drinkst mine! And we are freshened quite." The good man then sprang wildly up And roared with all his might, "A costly drink that man shall buy Who takes my schnapps this night!" As though she had a fortune found, The good wife danced the floor, "Good man!" she cried, "you spoke the word, And you must bar the door!" James Clarence Harvey, in Home Journal |