The Tired Man

I am a quiet gentleman,

And I would sit and dream;

But my wife is on the hillside,

Wild as a hill-stream.

I am a quiet gentleman,

And I would sit and think;

But my wife is walking the whirlwind

Through night as black as ink.

Oh, give me a woman of my race

As well controlled as I,

And let us sit by the fire,

Patient till we die!