From Rude Rural Rhymes by Bob Adams, New York: The Macmillan Company; 1925; pp. 192-193.
HERE COMES THE BRIDE
This is the merry month of June
Which sets the wedding bells in tune,
When men see those who soon will boss ’em
All camouflaged with orange blossom.
O blushing bride, O gentle dear,
Push back the tresses from your ear,
I have some words for you to hear.
When all mankind were troglodytes,
Before the dates that history cites,
A female person had no rights.
The bridegroom’s plan for home sweet home
Was bending saplings on her dome.
But times have changed since those beginnings
And women long have had their innings.
Since Satan made the rolling pin,
The human head is all too thin.
If Jason calls his soul his own,
Rap gently on his frontal bone,
But bear in mind the tool is meant
To stupefy, not crack or dent.
From self-assertion you must wean him,
But do be careful when you bean him.
I wish you luck, I hope you win,
[193]
I’m very strong for discipline;
But yet as oft as once a week,
For him some freedom I bespeak,
And you should give no wrathful sign,
Providing he is home by nine,
Nor bounce his head against a rafter
For coming home a minute after.
So, nobly just, but sternly great,
Step to the helm and navigate;
You are the captain, he the mate.
And when he tries back talk with you
He’ll soon be nothing but the crew.
Nay more, if he a bit too far go,
He may be classed as simply cargo.