DEAR
NANCY
.
Air
—
Saturday
Night
.
DEAR
Nancy
,
since
men
have
all
made
their
own
laws
,
Which
oppress
the
poor
women
,
whatever's
the
cause
;
Since
by
hardness
of
reason
or
hardness
of
fist
All
wrong
must
be
right
if
they
choose
to
persist
;
I'd
have
you
with
caution
in
wedlock
engage
,
For
if
once
you
are
caught
you're
a
bird
in
a
cage
,
That
may
for
dear
liberty
flutter
the
wing
As
you
hop
round
the
perch
,
but
'tis
chance
if
you
sing
.
The
man
who
in
courtship
is
studious
to
please
,
Throws
off
his
attention
and
hears
not
nor
sees
;
Whilst
her
who
before
was
the
fairest
of
flowers
The
cloud
on
his
brow
ever
drenches
with
showers
:
And
the
man
whose
rough
manners
were
courteous
before
,
Gives
you
every
reason
to
look
for
no
more
;
For
such
churls
I've
seen
through
the
whole
of
their
lives
Give
nought
but
an
oath
or
a
frown
to
their
wives
.
Let
her
speech
or
her
manners
be
e'er
so
bewitching
,
Why
,
women
should
only
give
mouth
in
the
kitchen
Nor
e'en
there
rule
the
roast
,
for
my
lord
must
be
by
,
And
a
finger
must
always
have
in
every
pie
.
Then
he'd
lifeless
become
,
—
to
such
silence
is
prone
,
That
you'd
think
him
a
statue
just
cut
out
of
stone
;
And
his
fair
one
,
I'll
wager
,
not
all
the
year
round
Hears
aught
of
his
voice
save
a
hum-and-ha
sound
.
Now
some
,
to
advise
you
all
evils
to
shun
,
Bid
you
ever
be
happy
by
holding
your
tongue
;
But
Jack
Boaster
has
taught
me
that
this
will
not
do
,
For
when
he
is
railing
his
dear
shall
rail
too
;
And
Andrew
Macgrumble
insists
that
his
wife
Shall
ask
pardon
most
humbly
each
hour
of
her
life
:
And
he's
right
;
for
,
since
wedlock
has
made
them
both
one
,
'Tis
fit
for
such
sin
she
should
daily
atone
!
Then
there's
trim
little
Dicky
,
who
calls
himself
bless'd
In
a
spouse
so
accomplish'd
,
so
young
,
and
well
dress'd
;
Should
she
play
with
her
lap-dog
,
'twould
give
him
such
pain
,
He
would
tear
down
a
curl
,
and
then
curl
it
again
;
Should
you
travel
life's
road
with
a
mate
such
as
these
,
'Tis
a
chance
the
whole
journey
you'd
do
aught
to
please
.
Yet
you
fondly
fancy
that
yours
is
a
swain
Whom
softness
and
sweetness
will
still
keep
the
same
;
—
That
when
years
have
roll'd
on
,
though
your
locks
be
turn'd
grey
;
Though
the
rosebud
is
blown
—
nay
,
quite
faded
away
;
Tho'
the
canker
of
time
should
love's
blossoms
destroy
,
Yet
as
Darby
and
Joan
you
may
still
be
wish'd
joy
;
—
Then
hold
your
good
humour
,
for
that
is
the
charm
Which
can
make
beauty
linger
,
and
keep
the
heart
warm
;
And
,
when
youth
,
with
light
wings
,
shall
for
ever
have
flown
,
Make
your
Darby
delighted
to
sit
by
his
Joan
!