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Ladle Song A rich old miser married me, His age was threescore ten and three, While mine was scarcely seventeen, Oh I wish his face I never had seen! 'Twas late last night when he came home, And he began to fret and fume He beat me and he banged me,too Till my poor limbs were all black and blue. Early the next morning I arose And after putting on my clothes While he lay sleeping on his bed Oh! I did my ladle break over his head. Then I began to scold about, I being courageous, bold and stout I told him such works I never would have And then anothewr blow I gave. Now all young women who intend to marry Never mind what housing stuff you carry, And wherever you go, or ehatever you do Be sure and carry a ladle or two. Come all youg women who have cross men And don't know how to govern them 'Twas with my ladle I brought him to And that is the way you all must do. From Folk Songs of Old New England, Linscott Collected from Ella May Wright, who learned it from her father. DT #521 Laws Q7 RG oct96
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!