OCR Text |
Show 1 DARBY and JOHN When Uarby eaw tho setting sun, Ho swung his scythe, and home ho run, Sat down, drank off tilt quart and nald, My work ls done, I'll go to bed. My work ls dono, retorted Joan, My work is donef your constant tone, Dut hapless "woman no'or can shy. My work Is done, tilt Judgment day. You men can sloep all night, but wo Must toll. Whoso fault is that? quoth he I know your meaning, Joan refilled, But sir, my tongue shall not bo tied; I will go on, ana let you know What work poor Women hare to do; First, Ik tko morning, though wa fool As sick as drunkards, "hen they rl Te, fo4 Uh Pl ta baals. nd head Aa would eonnisj you men to bed, Wa ply" tha brush, wa. wield the broom, Wa atr the beds, and right the room; The cows must aext be milked and then Wa get the breakfast for Uie men. Bra thla is done, with whimpering cries, And bristly hair, the children rise; These must be dressed Und dosed with rue. And fed and all because of you; Wo next here Darby scratched his head, , And stole off grumbling to his bed; And only said, as on sho run, Zounds I woman's clack Is neror dono. At early dawn, era Phoebus rose, Old Joan resumed her tale of woes; When Darby thus I'll end tha strife, Bo yon tha man and I tha wife; Take you tha teytha and mow while I Wits all jour boaatad cares supply. , Content, quoth Joan, gtra ma my stint. This Darby Hid, and out aha want. Old Darby rota and aaiaad Ua broom And whirled tha dirt about tha room; Which baring doae ha acarca knew how, Ha hied to milk tha brindled cow. The brindled cow whiskad round her tail In Darby's eyes, and kicked tha pall. Tha clown, perplexed with grlet and pain, a wore he'd nerer try to milk again; When turning round, in sad amaee, He saw his cottage in a blaze; For as ho chanced to brush tha room In careless haste ha fired the broom, The flro at last subdued, ha awora The broom and he would meot no moro. Prcsaed by misfortune and perploxod Darby prepared the breakfast noxt; But what to get he scarcely know The bread was spent, tho butter, too, His hands bedaubed with pasta and flour, ( Old Darby labored full an hour; But luckless wtsbtl thou couldst not mako Tho bread tako form of loaf or cake. As ovory door wide opon stood, In pushed the sow in quest of food; And stumbling onwards with her snout 1 Corset tho churn tho cream ran out As Darby turned, tho sow to be!it, Tho slippery cream betrayed his foot; He caught tho broad trough In his fall, And down camo Darby, trough and all, Tho children, woakoned by tho clatter, Start up and cry, Oh, what's tho mutter? Old Jowlcr barked, and Tabby mowed And hapless Darby bawled nloud; Return my Joan, ns hcrotofore, I'll play tho liousowlfo's part no moro; Slnco now, by sad oxpcrlonco taught, Compared to thlno my work Is naught, Henceforth !is business cnllB, I'll take, Content, tho plow, tho scytho, tho rako, And novcrmore transgress tho lino Our fates havo marked whllo thou art mine. Then Joan, return, as herotoforo, I'll vox my honest soul no moro; Let's each our propor task attend ForglTo tho past, and atrlvo to mend. ' 8. John Honoywood. 1 |