Текст оригинала на английском языке
The Joyful Widower
I MARRIED with a scolding wife The fourteenth of November; She made me weary of my life, By one unruly member. Long did I bear the heavy yoke, And many griefs attended; But, to my comfort be it spoke, Now, now her life is ended. We lived full one-and-twenty years A man and wife together; At length from me her course she steer’d. And gone I know not whither: Would I could guess! I do profess, I speak, and do not flatter, Of all the women in the world, I never would come at her. Her body is bestowed well, A handsome grave does hide her; But sure her soul is not in hell, The deil would ne’er abide her. I rather think she is aloft, And imitating thunder; For why,-methinks I hear her voice Tearing the clouds asunder.
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