She Is Overheard Singing

Oh, Prue she has a patient man,         And Joan a gentle lover,     And Agatha's Arth' is a hug-the-hearth,--         But my true love's a rover!     Mig, her man's as good as cheese         And honest as a briar,     Sue tells her love what he's thinking of,--         But my dear lad's a liar!     Oh, Sue and Prue and Agatha         Are thick with Mig and Joan!     They bite their threads and shake their heads         And gnaw my name like a bone;     And Prue says, "Mine's a patient man,         As never snaps me up,"     And Agatha, "Arth' is a hug-the-hearth,         Could live content in a cup;"     Sue's man's mind is like good jell--         All one colour, and clear --     And Mig's no call to think at all         What's to come next year,     While Joan makes boast of a gentle lad,         That's troubled with that and this;--     But they all would give the life they live         For a look from the man I kiss!     Cold he slants his eyes about,         And few enough's his choice,--     Though he'd slip me clean for a nun, or a queen,         Or a beggar with knots in her voice,--     And Agatha will turn awake         While her good man sleeps sound,     And Mig and Sue and Joan and Prue         Will hear the clock strike round,     For Prue she has a patient man,         As asks not when or why,     And Mig and Sue have naught to do         But peep who's passing by,     Joan is paired with a putterer         That bastes and tastes and salts,     And Agatha's Arth' is a hug-the-hearth,--         But my true love is false!