On Tuesday morning to my surprise, A little before the sun did rise, She rattled her clapper, and scolded more, Than ever I heard in my life before. Laddy-heigh-ho! &c. 3 On Wednesday morning I went to the wood, I thought to do my wife some good. I cut me a twig of holly green, I trust the toughest I'd ever seen. Laddy-heigh-ho! &c. 4 I hung the stick up well to dry, I thought on Thursday it to try, I laid it about her head and back, Before my twig began to crack. Laddy-heigh-ho! &c. 5 On Friday morning to my surprise, A little before the sun did rise, She rattled her clapper in scolding tone, I turn'd my back and left her alone. Laddy-heigh-ho! &c. 6 On Saturday morn, as I may say, As she on her pillow consulting lay, A Bogie arrived in fume and flame, And carried her off both blind and lame. Laddy-heigh-ho! &c. 7 On Sunday, neighbours, I dine without A scolding wife and a brawling rout; Enjoy my bottle, and my best friend, And surely this is a brave week's end. Laddy-heigh-ho! &c. No. 118 THE OLD MAN CAN'T KEEP HIS WIFE AT HOME C.J.S. [Music] 1 The old man can't keep his wife at home, She dearly loves abroad to roam, She will but eat the choicest meat, And leave th'old man the bone. Herself must have good cheer, Herself drink humming beer. A merry life lives she, For her heart is full of glee. CHORUS: The old man can't keep his wife at home, She dearly loves abroad to roam, &c. 2 The old man's wife went out to dine, And left him tuck'd in bed at home. She dressed so fine, drank red red wine, Her face with pleasure shone. She capered and she danc'd, She like an ostrich pranc'd, And sang There's none so free, As old men's wives may be. CHORUS: The old man can't keep his wife at home, She dearly loves abroad to roam, &c. 3 The old man began to crawl and cough'd; Above the door he set a stone, Then sat and quaff'd thin beer and laugh'd, Till spasms made him groan. His wife so late came home, Then clatter'd down the stone, It fell upon her head, It knocked her flat and dead. CHORUS: The old man don't keep a wife at home, Not one who dearly loves to roam. Odds bobs, of strife, and gadding wife The old man now has none. No. 119 SWEET FAREWELL C.J.S. [Music] 1 Will by Mary sad reposes On a bank of prim-a-roses. Sore is William's heart at leaving, Tears that flow tell Mary's grieving, Sweet, Farewell! Dearest, farewell, farewell! I'm in the marching order. 2 Hark! I hear the Colonel crying, Drums are beating, colours flying. Colours flying, drums are beating, Boys! advance, there's no retreating Sweet, farewell! &c. 3