Poor Married Man

A very instructive popular music-hall ditty, c. 1870 (although it probably goes back further than that)  for those planning to get married (found in full in A Book of Scattered Leaves by James G. Hepburn, on Google Books).

Poor Married Man

Oh, what sorrow a poor man's life is.
     Poor married man,
It full of trouble grief and strife is,
     Poor married man.
Soon as he's wed things sure to frown will.
Trades sure to go in country and town ill.
It's all up and down, down, down hill,
     Poor married man.

He goes to church brisk as a vulter.
     Poor married man.
With a "H" they ought to spell that Altar.
     Poor married man,
When wed the fair have fairly trick'd him,
Even the beadle grins to see how they nick'd him,
Cries there goes another Hymen's victim,
     Poor married man.

When single, he thought the parlour a slap room;
      Poor married man,
When married he smokes a short pipe in a tap room.
     Poor married man,
When he goes home, they're sure to bore him.
Tease and snarl, nag and jaw him,
And his eldest boy is good to floor him.
     Poor married man.

Visions of the workhouse landlord and broker.
     Poor married man.

Haunt his mind till he is nearly a croker,
     Poor married man,
Three children down with the scarlatina,
The measles seizes poor Georgina.
And a black man steps it with Angelina.
     Poor married man.

Soon after marriage he's sure to be hard up,
     Poor married man,
He begins to accumulate his uncle's cards up.
     Poor married man,
The feathers go pound by pound till the last one.
A brown sugar basin instead of a glass one,
The wedding ring gives place to a brass one,
     Poor married man.

Trousers wet and cradle rocking,
     Poor married man,
Buttonless shirt and feetless stockings,
    Poor married man,
He has no shirt, especially on one day,
When he lays at home without it on Sunday,
While the old gal rubs it out for Monday,
     Poor married man.

He lives on sodgers, rashers. faggots,
     Poor married man.
When in luck, block ornaments and chances the maggots,
     Poor married man,
Dreams of blow outs, kitchen clearings.
Fancies he's Lord Mayor, when eating tongue parings,
And longs for the time of cheap fresh herrings,
     Poor married man.

Last scene that ends the poor man's history,
     Poor married man,
He dies, how he liv'd had been a mystery,
     Poor married man,
Grim death comes kindly to relieve him,
Friends so poor, no time to grieve him,
And a parish egg chest perhaps may receive him,
     Poor married man.