Classic Poem

Woman's an angelic creature
When with virtue she is crown'd;
She's the masterpiece of nature,
Ev'ry joy in her is found.
When afflictions they o'ertake you
Yet a kind and constant mate;
In distress will ne'er forsake you,
Struggling thro' the storms of fate.

But a false, deceitful harlot,
Who from in'trest sake is kind,
Fond alike of ev'ry varlet,
And inconstant as the wind.
Jilts you till she's quite undone you,
Then your error's found too late.
When she's fleec'd you, then she'll shun you,
Laughing, while you curse your fate.