Of their Chloes and Phillisses Poets may prate

I sing my plain Country Joan

Now twelve Years my Wife, still the Joy of my Life

Blest Day that I made her my own,

My dear Friends

Blest Day that I made her my own.

2

Not a Word of her Face, her Shape, or her Eyes,

Of Flames or of Darts shall you hear;

Tho’ I Beauty admire ’tis Virtue I prize,

That fades not in seventy Years,

My dear Friends

3

In Health a Companion delightfull and dear,

Still easy, engaging, and Free,

In Sickness no less than the faithfullest Nurse

As tender as tender can be,

My dear Friends

4

In Peace and good Order, my Houshold she keeps

Right Careful to save what I gain

Yet chearfully spends, and smiles on the Friends

I’ve the Pleasures to entertain

My dear Friends

5

She defends my good Name ever where I’m to blame,

Friend firmer was ne’er to Man giv’n,

Her Compassionate Breast, feels for all the Distrest,

Which draws down the Blessing from Heav’n,

My dear Friends

6

Am I laden with Care, she takes off a large Share,

That the Burthen ne’er makes [me] to reel,

Does good Fortune arrive, the Joy of my Wife,

Quite Doubles the Pleasures I feel,

My dear Friends

7

In Raptures the giddy Rake talks of his Fair,

Enjoyment shall make him Despise,

I speak my cool sence, that long Experience,

And Enjoyment have chang’d in no wise,

My dear Friends

[Some Faults we have all, and so may my Joan,

But then they’re exceedingly small;

And now I’m us’d to ’em, they’re just like my own,

I scarcely can see ’em at all,

My dear Friends,

I scarcely can see them at all.]

8

Were the fairest young Princess, with Million in Purse

To be had in Exchange for my Joan,

She could not be a better Wife, mought be a Worse,

So I’d stick to my Joggy alone

My dear Friends

I’d cling to my lovely ould Joan.