I’d often heard of married life, of pleasures without equal,
So I resolved to take a wife, but only mark the sequel.
But while my sorrows I relate, don’t try to raise my ire,
For oh, I’ve often cursed the fate of unhappy Jeremiah.
I courted Jane, the milliner, her parents were my betters,
But soon I had enough of her, when fast bound in wedlock fetters.
For we had a boarder of our own, a man she did admire,
And oft with him she’d be alone in spite of Jeremiah.
Remonstrating was all in vain, she’d always be my master,
And if I tried to stop her tongue, ’twas sure to run the faster.
One day she ask’d this man to tea, she told me to retire,
I left her sitting on his knee, what a treat for Jeremiah!
Now we had two children of our own, and oft I had to mind ’em,
And when she walk’d with other men, I had to walk behind ’em.
But what is more to my disgrace, oh, lord, I feel on fire,
The children didn’t look in the face a bit like Jeremiah.
Oh, I’d been to work quite hard one day, when to my home returning,
I found my wife had ran away, and all my offers spurning.
Of reason I was near bereft, folks thought I would expire,
For oh, she took the goods and left the brats for Jeremiah.
Happy Hezekiah.
Old Jeremiah you have heard so oft relate his troubles,
He told that married life was nothing but a bubble.
Now to confute this calumny, it is my heart’s desire,
So list you while I sing the luck of happy Hezekiah.
My wife she was no milliner, or any other trade, sir.
But was what I ne’er blush to own, a charming servant-maid, sir.
I courted her, ’twas in a house, where she used to build the fires,
And I’ve ne’er had cause to curse the day she first was Hezekiah’s.
I ne’er have cause for jealousy, I never take home codgers,
And what is more, I ne’er take in any single young men lodgers.
I always do go home to tea, then draw up to the fire,
My wife she reads, or mends the coat of happy Hezekiah.
My wife and I we ne’er fall out, we love each other dearly,
And of affections ’tis a fact, a pledge is sent us yearly.
And what adds more unto the joy, which a parent should inspire,
The children are the image of their father, Hezekiah.
We four dear children now have got, and do expect another,
The boys myself I do bring up, the girls I leave to their mother.
Thus with the children and my wife, my own, my loved Sophia,
So pleasantly doth pass the life of happy Hezekiah.