Fugitive Poetry. 1600–1878/Johnny Sands

Johnny Sands.

A man whose name was Johnny Sands,
Had married Betty Hague,
Who, though she brought him gold and lands,
Yet proved a shocking plague.

For she was quite a scolding wife,
Full of caprice and whim;
He said that he was tired of life,
She—she was tired of him.

Said he, "Then I will drown myself,
The river runs below
Said she, "Pray do, you silly elf!
I wished it long ago."

Said he, "Upon the brink upright
I'll stand;—run down the hill.
And push me in with all your might."
Said she, "My love, I will."

"For fear that courage I should lack,
And try to save my life;
Pray tie my hands behind my back."
"I will," replied the wife.

She tied them fast, as you may think,
And when securely done,
"Now go," she cried, "upon the brink
And I'll prepare to run."

All down the hill his tender bride
Now ran with all her force,
To push him in,—he stepped aside,
And she fell in of course.

Then splashing, dashing, like a fish,
"Oh, save me, Johnny Sands!"
"I can't, my dear, though much I wish,
For yon have tied my hands."