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Poem	Here's to the men! Since Adam's time They've always been the same; Whenever anything goes wrong, The woman is to blame. From early morn to late at night, The men fault-finders are; They blame us if they oversleep, Or if they miss a car. They blame us if, beneath the bed, Their collar buttons roll; They blame us if the fire is out Or if there is no coal. They blame us if they cut themselves While shaving, and they swear That we're to blame if they decide To go upon a tear. Here's to the men, the perfect men! Who never are at fault; They blame us if they chance to get The pepper for the salt. They blame us if their business fails, Or back a losing horse; And when it rains on holidays The fault is ours, of course. They blame us when they fall in love, And when they married get; Likewise they blame us when they're sick, And when they fall in debt. For everything that crisscross goes They say we are to blame; But, after all, here's to the men, We love them just the same!
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