If a daughter you have, she's the plague of your
life,
No peace shall you know, tho' you've buried your wife,
At twenty she mocks at the duty you taught
her,
O, what a plague is an obstinate
daughter.
Sighing and whining,
Dying and
pining,
O, what a plague is an obstinate
daughter.
When scarce in their teens, they have
wit to perplex us,
With letters and lovers for ever
they vex us,
While each still rejects the fair suitor
you've brought her,
O, what a plague is an obstinate
daughter.
Wrangling and jangling,
Flouting and
pouting,
O, what a plague is an obstinate daughter.
Written by Richard Brinsley Sheridan
Poems on Daughters
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