The Truckers

The change of food enjoyment is to man;
In this, t’include the woman is my plan. 
I cannot guess why Rome will not allow
Exchange in wedlock, and its leave avow;
Not ev’ry time such wishes might arise,
But, once in life at least, ’twere not unwise;
Perhaps one day we may the boon obtain;
Amen, I say:  my sentiments are plain;
The privilege in France may yet arrive
There trucking pleases, and exchanges thrive;
The people love variety, we find;
And such by heav’n was ere for them designed.

          Oncethere dwelled, near Rouen, (sapient clime)
          Two villagers, whose wives were in their prime,
          And rather pleasing in their shape and mien,
          For those in whom refinement ’s scarcely seen. 
          Each looker-on conceives, love needs not greet
          Such humble wights, as he would prelates treat.

          Ithappened, howsoe’er, both weary grown,
          Of halves that they so long had called their own;
          One holyday, with them there chanced to drink
          The village lawyer (bred in Satan’s sink);
          To him, said one of these, with jeering air,
          Good mister Oudinet, a strange affair
          Is in my head:  you’ve doubtless often made
          Variety of contracts; ’tis your trade: 
          Now, cannot you contrive, by one of these,
          That men should barter wives, like goods, at ease? 
          Our pastor oft his benefice has changed;
          Is trucking wives less easily arranged? 
          It cannot be, for well I recollect,
          That Parson Gregory (whom none suspect)
          Would always say, or much my mem’ry fails,
          My flock ’s my wife:  love equally prevails;
          He changed; let us, good neighbour do the same;
          With all my heart, said t’other, that’s my aim;
          But well thou know’st that mine’s the fairest face,
          And, Mister Oudinet, since that’s the case,
          Should he not add, at least, his mule to boot? 
          My mule? rejoined the first, that will not suit;
          In this world ev’ry thing has got its price: 
          Mine I will change for thine and that ’s concise. 
          Wives are not viewed so near; naught will I add;
          Why, neighbour Stephen, dost thou think me mad,
          To give my mule to boot?—­of mules the king;
          Not e’en an ass I’d to the bargain bring;
          Change wife for wife, the barter will be fair;
          Then each will act with t’other on the square.