Curtis was old Hodge's wife,
For virtue none was ever such,
She led so pure, so chaste a life,
Hodge said 'twas vartue over much:

For says sly old Hodge, says he,
Great talkers do the least d'ye see.

II.

Curtis said if men were rude
She'd scratch their eyes out, tear their hair;
Cry'd Hodge, I believe thou'rt wond'rous good,
However, let us nothing swear.

For says, &c.

III.

One night she dreamt a drunken fool
Be rude with her in spight would fain;
She makes no more, but, with joint stool,
Falls on her husband might and main.

Still says, &c.

IV.

By that time she had broke his nose,
Hodge made shift to wake his wife;
Dear Hodge, said she, judge by these blows,
I prize my vartue as my life.

Still says, &c.

V.

I dreamt a rude man on me fell;
However I his project marr'd:
Dear wife, cried Hodge, 'tis mighty well,
But next time don't hit quite so hard.

For says, &c.

VI.

At break of day Hodge cross'd a stile,
Near to a field of new-mown hay,
And saw, and curst his stars the while,
Curtis and Numps in am'rous play.

Was'nt I right, says Hodge, says he,
Great talkers do the least d'ye see.