From The Sun, April 19, 1914.
A man whose name was Johnny Sands
Had married Betty Hague;
And though she brought him gold and lands,
She proved a terrible plague—
For, oh, she was a scolding wife,
Full of caprice and whim—
He said that he was tired of life,
And she was tired of him.
Says he, “Then I will drown myself—
The river runs below.”
Says she, “Pray do, you silly elf—
I wished it long ago.”
Says he, “Upon the brink I’ll stand.
Do you run down the hill
And push me in with all your might.”
Says she, “My love, I will.”
“For fear that I should courage lack
And try to save my life,
Pray tie my hands behind my back.”
“I will,” replied his wife.
She tied them fast, as you may think,
And when securely done,
“Now stand,” she says, “upon the brink,
While I prepare to run.”
All down the hill his loving bride
Now ran with all her force
To push him in—he stepped aside,
And she fell in of course.
Now splashing, dashing like a fish—
“Oh save me, Johnny Sands!”
“I can’t, my dear, though much I wish,
For you have tied my hands!”