O Donald! Ye Are Just The Man.

O DONALD! YE ARE JUST THE MAN.

O DONALD! ye are just the man Who, when he's got a wife, Begins to fratch — nae notice ta'en — They're strangers a' their life.

The fan may drop — she takes it up, The husband keeps his chair; She hands the kettle — gives his cup — Without e'en — "Thank ye, dear."

Now, truly, these slights are but toys; But frae neglects like these, The wife may soon a slattern grow, And strive nae muir to please.

For wooers ay do all they can To trifle wi' the mind; They hold the blaze of beauty up, And keep the poor things blind.

But wedlock tears away the veil, The goddess is nae mair; He thinks his wife a silly thing, She thinks her man a bear.

Let then the lover be the friend — The loving friend for life; Think but thysel the happiest spouse, She'll be the happiest wife.