My Wife is a Most Knowing Woman

MY WIFE IS A MOST KNOWING WOMAN
By Stephen C. Foster
(1826-1864)

My wife is a most knowing woman,
She always is finding me out,
She never will hear explanations
But instantly puts me to rout,
There's no use to try and deceive her,
If out with my friends night or day,
In a most inconceivable manner,
She tells where I've been right away,
She says that I'm "mean" and "inhuman."
Oh! My wife is a most knowing woman.

She would've been hung up for witchcraft
If she had lived sooner, I know,
There's no hiding anything from her,
She knows what I do -- where I go;
And if I come in after midnight
And say "I have been to the lodge,"
Oh, she says while she flies in a fury,
"Now don't think to play such a dodge!
It's all very fine, but won't do, man,"
Oh, my wife is a most knowing woman.

Not often I go out to dinner
And come home a little "so so,"
I try to creep up through the hall-way,
As still as a mouse, on tip-toe,
She's sure to be waiting up for me
And then comes a nice little scene,
"What, you tell me you're sober, you wretch you,
Now don't think that I am so green!
My life is quite worn out with you, man,"
Oh, my wife is a most knowing woman!

She knows me much better than I do,
Her eyes are like those of a lynx,
Though how she discovers my secrets
Is a riddle would puzzle a sphynx,
On fair days, when we go out walking,
If ladies look at me askance,
In the most harmless way, I assure you,
My wife gives me, oh! such a glance,
And says "all these insults you'll rue, man,"
Oh, my wife is a most knowing woman.

Yes, I must give all of my friends up
If I would live happy and quiet;
One might as well be 'neath a tombstone
As live in confusion and riot.
This life we all know is a short one,
While some tongues are long, heaven knows,
And a miserable life is a husband's
Who numbers his wife with his foes;
I'll stay at home now like a true man,
Oh, my wife is a most knowing woman.