The poem
My Master is a man of might With manners like a hog; He makes me slave from morn to night And treats me like a dog. He thinks there's nothing on this earth His money cannot buy, And claims to get full wages worth From hirelings such as I.
But does he? Though a Man of State, And fabulously rich, He little guesses that his mate Is just a bonny bitch. For he is grey and gross and fat, While I am tall and slim, And when he's gone it happens that I take the place of him.
Oh God! The beauty of the blow When I will blast his life; When I will laugh and let him know My mistress is his wife. Today a doormat for his feet, He loves to see me squirm . . . Tomorrow,--how revenge is sweet! The turning of the worm.