For Some Country Lads, Performing "The Devil of a Wife," in the Christmas Holidays

FOR SOME COUNTRY LADS, PERFORMING " THE DEVIL OF A WIFE, " IN THE CHRISTMAS HOLIDAYS

I N days of yore, when round the jovial board,
With harmless mirth and social plenty stor'd,
Our parent Britons quaff'd their nut-brown ale,
And carols sung, or told the Christmas tale;
In struts St. George, Old England's champion knight,
With hasty steps, impatient to recite —
How he had kill'd the dragon, once in fight.

From every side — from Troy — from ancient Greece,
Princes pour in to swell the motley piece;
And while their deeds of prowess they rehearse,
The flowing bowl rewards their hobbling verse.

Intent to raise this evening's cordial mirth,
Like theirs, our simple stage-play comes to birth.
Our want of art we candidly confess,
But give you Nature in her homespun dress;
No heroes here — no martial men of might;
A cohler is the champion of to-night;
His strap, more fam'd than George's lance of old,
For it can tame that dragoness, a scold!
Indulgent, then, support the cobler's cause,
And though he may'nt deserve it, smile applause.