Little Wrangles
Lord, we've had our little wrangles, an' we've had our little bouts;
There's many a time, I reckon, that we have been on the outs;
My tongue's a trifle hasty an' my temper's apt to fly,
An' Mother, let me tell you, has a sting in her reply,
But I couldn't live without her, an' it's plain as plain can be
That in fair or sunny weather Mother needs a man like me.
I've banged the door an' muttered angry words beneath my breath,
For at times when she was scoldin' Mother's plagued me most to death,
But we've always laughed it over, when we'd both cooled down a bit,
An' we never had a difference but a smile would settle it.
An' if such a thing could happen, we could share life's joys an' tears
An' live right on together for another thousand years.
Some men give up too easy in the game o' married life;
They haven't got the courage to be worthy of a wife;
An' I've seen a lot o' women that have made their lives a mess,
'Cause they couldn't bear the burdens that are, mixed with happiness.
So long as folks are human they'll have many faults that jar,
An' the way to live with people is to take them as they are.
We've been forty years together, good an' bad, an' rain an' shine;
I've forgotten Mother's faults now an' she never mentions mine.
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