Peter Warlock - Tom Tyler

I am a poor tiler in simple array
And get a poor living, but eightpence a day
My wife as i get it, doth spend it away;
The proverb reporteth, no man can deny

{for}2 wedding and hanging is destiny
And i cannot help it, she saith; wot we why?

I thought when i wed her, she had been a sheep
At board to be friendly, to sleep when i sleep
She loves so unkindly, she makes me to weep;
But i dare say nothing, god wot! wot ye why?
The proverb reporteth, no man can deny
That wedding and hanging is destiny

Besides this unkindnеss whereof my grief grows
I think fеw tilers are match'd with such shrows;
Before she leaves brawling, she falls to deal blows
Which, early and late, doth cause me to cry
The proverb reporteth, no man can deny
That wedding and hanging is destiny

The more that i please her, the worse she doth like me;
The more i forbear her, the more she doth strike me;
The more that i get her, the more she doth glike me;
Woe worth this ill fortune that maketh me cry
The proverb reporteth, no man can deny
That wedding and hanging is destiny
If i had been hanged when i had been married
My torments had ended, though i had miscarried;
If i had been warned, then would i have tarried;
But now all too lately i feel and i cry
The proverb reporteth, no man can deny
That wedding and hanging is destiny