| Now I’ve been married about six months |
| Only six months you see |
| The first three months was all okay |
| The last three is killin' me |
| My wife began to hissin', she cut down on her kissin' |
| And then she failed to shine my shoes |
| My shirts became wrinkled |
| My pants with dirt were sprinkled |
| And I took the first year blues |
| Well then she started naggin' |
| She left the sink a’saggin' |
| With dishes piled up high |
| No food upon the table, she said, «If I get able |
| I cook something bye and bye» |
| Then I began to wonder, if I had made a blunder |
| When I said, «I do», she must have read my thinkin' |
| Her eyes began to blinkin' and that gal broke in to |
| Well I heard the dishes crashin' |
| And I began to dashin' |
| Gettin' out of sight |
| For right there was my honey |
| On who I’d spent my money, turnin' into dynamite |
| Then after she’d exploded, her meanness all unloaded |
| And things began to simmer down |
| I found myself a’bleedin' and very much a’needin' |
| Of stitches taken all around |
| Well then she started cryin', I felt myself a’sighin' |
| And then I took her in my arms |
| I was afraid to scold her, so I just gently told her |
| She didn’t do a bit of harm |
| Now the first six months is over and I am much the older |
| And experienced with a wife |
| If I can take the next six, my friends all say I’ll be fixed |
| To take it the rest of my life |