Et Digt om Konerne
En Kurvemager havde gjort
En Kurv. Nu det var ikke stort,
Men den var smuk og Manden værdig.
»Nu, Gud skee Lov, at den er færdig!«
Udraabte han, da Konen kom;
Men Konen brød sig ei derom.
– »Siig: Gud skee Lov, den er istand!«
– »Det gjør jeg ikke, lille Mand!
Du har jo sagt det, det er nok!« –
– »Siig Gud skee Lov!« – Han tog sin Stok.
Hun sagde: »nei, jeg ikke vil!« –
Saa fik hun Prygl, og han slog til.
Høit skreg hun; Nabokonen kom
Og spurgte ud: hvorfor? hvorom?
Og strax, saa snart hun hørte det,
Saa gav hun ganske Konen ret,
Gik hjem og hun var meget vred:
Knap fik hun Tid at sidde ned,
Sin Mand fortalte hun det Hele.
»Din Mening kan jeg ikke dele«,
Begyndte han: »det var ei Ret,
At Konen ikke sagde det!« –
– »Jo det var Ret! hun skulde ei,
Jeg havde heller ikke, jeg!« –
– »Du?« svared’ Manden, »ei Du turde!
For jeg slog ogsaa! ja jeg gjorde!« –
– »Det gad jeg see, min lille Mand!« –
– »Siig: Gud skee Lov den er istand!«
– »Det gjør jeg ei!« – Saa slog han til.
Hun skreg. Det var det samme Spil.
Strax kom den næste Naboemo’r,
Hun hørte Alt, og høit hun svoer,
At Konerne de havde Ret.
Sin Mand hun strax fortalte det,
Og Enden her, jo det gik smukt,
Madammen med fik sit Produkt;
Fra Huus til Huus det stadigt gik,
Og Prygl de allesammen fik,
Thi ingen Kone fandt behov
At sige Mandens: »Gud skee Lov«.
Fra Gade det til Gade kom,
Tilsidst saa var det Byen om,
Ja Landet med! og eens det gik,
De sagde »nei«, og Prygl de fik.
Om det er Sandhed eller hvad –?
Du spørge kan din Kone ad.
Moral
Brug Kys, og ikke Stok, min Ven!
Thi hun forstokkes kun ved den.
A Poem about the Wives
A basketmaker had just made
A basket. Not large or high-grade
But fine, her husband more than worthy.
‘Well, God be praised, though not too early!’
He called out, when his wife appeared;
She didn’t like what she’d just heard.
‘Say: God be praised, it’s made and done!’
‘No, husband, that request I’ll shun!
You’ve said it once, that’s done the trick!’
‘Say God be praised!’ – He took his stick.
She said: ‘No, no, this I’ll not do!’
So she was beaten, black and blue.
She yelled; the wife from next door came
And asked: What’s up, who was to blame?
And straightway when she heard her plight,
Agreed the wife had been quite right,
Went home as angry as could be,
Had hardly sat down hurriedly
Before she told her husband all.
‘My own respect for her is small,’
He first remarked: ‘It wasn’t right
To have said that and start a fight!’
‘Oh yes it was. She’s not to blame,
I would have done the very same.’
‘You,’ he replied, ‘you wouldn’t dare!
For then I’d beat you! So beware!’
‘No, husband, that request I’ll shun
‘Say God be praised, it’s made and done!’
‘I won’t!’ – He beat her black and blue.
She yelled. The same thing happened too.
The wife appeared then from next door,
She heard it all, out loud she swore
Both wives had done quite right that day.
Her husband she told straight away,
The end of this was swift and neat,
This lady too was soundly beat.
From house to house the scene then spread,
With each wife thrashed for what she said,
None felt the need to say the phrase
The husband wanted: ‘God be praised’.
The same scene spread from street to street
Until the whole town was complete,
The country too! The couples clashed,
The wives said ‘No’ and then were thrashed.
If this or not might just be true –?
Well, you could ask your wife that too.
Moral
My friend, use kisses not the stick!
Or she’ll grow stubborn double quick.
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