While The Billy BoilsSearchThe Separated WomenGo lying through the land,For they have plenty dresses,And money, too, in hand;They married brutes and drunkardsAnd blackguards “frightful low”,But why are they so eagerFor all the world to know?
The shamed and ill-used womanWho really longs to die,She slaves at home in silenceAnd hides her poor black eye!She lives a life of terrorEased off at times in woe—But why is she so frightenedThat any one might know?
The Separated WomanShe rushes to the court,Sad, shabby and pathetic,Or flaunting or distraught;The real wronged wife would ratherLose both eyes and her hair—She swears a lie to save himWhen he is taken there.
The Separated WomanShe mostly goes the same,Bag-woman, sham-nurse, “pretty”,Or on her husband’s name;The real loafed-on woman,With courage almost grim,“Goes out” and takes in washingTo keep the kids—and him.
The Separated Woman—I knew her course so well:“The Stage”, then first-class barmaid,Then third-class bar—and hell:And “hell” means all things viciousThat prey upon the town(She wishes her poor husbandHad sometimes knocked her down).
Masseur and manicurist,Or anything by chance,They vilify their husbands—And draw the maintenance.Sham artists, “music teachers”—Oh! they are flinty nuts!Their friends are man-shaped crawlersAnd lower than the dust.
The separated “Monsters”Are missing from the tale—They seem to have cleared out—or,Perhaps they are in gaol.The separated husbandIs heard of here and there,A mild and decent citizenAnd mostly bowed with care.
The Separated Women,When upset in the track,Are often very eagerTo take the “Monster” back.They’ve moved all hell to crush himAnd, startled, find too lateThe Monster’s grown content withThe separated state.