Let my reason find its burrow
And sleep there ‘til tomorrow.
For too much thought has made me pale—
My wife did phone to weep and wail.

I admit to pleasant sins I shall not relinquish,
Duty, despair once so difficult to distinguish.
Now at night I sleep, a smile across my lips,
Knowing my ear is well beyond her churlish quips.

Married life can be a nasty business
When to spouses, locked in bitterness,
Endeavor with all their druthers
First to cheapen, then liquidate the other.

Now in this second month of my emancipation
I grow deaf toward such desperation;
Besides, the laugh and wit of my present mistress
Has tendered me free of that frightful mittimus.