The Stammering Wife

WHEN deeply in love with Miss Emily Pryne,

I vowed, if the maiden would only be mine,

I would always endeavor to please her.

She blushed her consent, though the stuttering lass

Said never a word except “You’re an ass—

An ass—an ass-iduous teaser!”

But when we were married, I found to my ruth,

The stammering lady had spoken the truth;

For often, in obvious dudgeon,

She’d say, if I ventured to give her a jog

In the way of reproof—“You’re a dog—you’re a dog—

A dog—a dog-matic curmudgeon!”

And once when I said, “We can hardly afford

This extravagant style, with our moderate hoard,”

And hinted we ought to be wiser.

She looked, I assure you, exceedingly blue,

And fretfully cried, “You’re a Jew—you’re a Jew—

A very ju-dicious adviser!”

Again, when it happened that, wishing to shirk

Some rather unpleasant and arduous work,

I begged her to go to a neighbor,

She wanted to know why I made such a fuss,

And saucily said, “You’re a cuss—cuss—cuss—

You were always ac-cus-tomed to labor!”

Out of temper at last with the insolent dame,

And feeling that madam was greatly to blame

To scold me instead of caressing,

I mimicked her speech—like a churl that I am—

And angrily said, “You’re a dam—dam—dam—

A dam-age instead of a blessing!”