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 mair 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.