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SOCRATES  SNOOKS.

                                        T E E   Socrates  Snooks,  a  lord  o f creation,
                                         T he  second  time  entered  the  m arriage  relation
                                         Xantippe  Caloric  accepted  his  hand,
                               A n d   they  thought  him  the  happiest  man  in  the  land,
                               But  scarce  had  the  honeym oon  passed  o ’er  his  head.
                               W hen  one  morning  to  Xantippe,  Socrates  said,
                              “ T  think,  for  a  man  of my  standing  in  life,
                               This  house  is  too  small,  as  I  now have  a wife:
                               So,  as  early  as  possible,  carpenter  Carey
                               Shall  be  sent  for  to  widen  m y  house  and  my  dairy/'

                              “ N ow ,  Socrates  dearest,”  Xantippe  replied,
                              f‘ T  hate  to  hear  everything  vulgarly  my'd;
                               N ow ,  whenever  you  speak  of your  chattels  again,
                               Say,  our  cow-housc,  our barn-yard,  our pig-pcu."
                              'B y   your  leavef  Mrs.  Snooks,  T  will  say  what  T  please
                               O f my  houses,  my  lands,  my  gardens,  my  trees."
                              -'S ay  our”  Xantippe  exclaimed  in  a  rage.
                               ‘ I  won’t,  Mrs.  Snooks,  though  yon  ask  it  an  a g e ! IT


                               O h ,  w om an  [  th o u g h   on 1y  a   p a rt  o f m an's  rib ,
                               If the  story  in  Genesis  don't  tell  a  fib,

                               Should  your  naughty  companion  e’er  quarrel  with  you.
                               Y o u   arc  certain  to  prove  the  best  man  of the  two.
                               In  the  following  case  this  was  certainly  true;
                               For  the  lovely  Xantippe just  pulled  off her  shoe,
                               A n d   laying  about  her,  on  all  sides  at  random,
                               The  adage  was  verified— “ Nil  desperandum.'1’


                               Mister  Socrates  Snooks,  after  trying  in  vain
                               T o  ward  off the  blows  which  descended  like  rain—
                               Concluding  that  valors  best  part  was  discretion,
                               Crept  mider  the  bed  like  a  terrified  H essian;
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