The Result

The Result.
240.7

You get a girl-a peach, a dream-
One that can turn at once your head?
Oh, no; that kind is not my theme:
You get a girl to bake the bread-

To bake the bread and scrub the floor,
To iron, wash and dust, perhaps,
To drive dull care from out your door
And give your wife her morning naps.

Then comes the girl with queenly air,
And takes the morning naps herself.
And sharpens up the edge of care,
And gathers in your hard earned pelf.

You get a girl-say once a week;
With every girl you get new hopes.
But you submissive are and meek
When every week the new girl slopes.