A bruised nose, a twisted face,
Clearly, life hits with no grace.
And yet you want, my cunning dear,
That someone loves you, year to year.
If a woman’s stubborn, sharp, or wild,
Must a man become a boar, defiled?
If your husband pleases not, my sweet,
Don’t growl at him, don’t stomp your feet.
Most men are married, just like you,
Their wives call them brutes, it’s true.
So friends, my comrades, let’s be sane,
This year, let’s act as humans, plain.