Roll out the Barrel

I think Jill, by now, has got my measure
of how I spirit away time and cash,
scolded for taking a drink at leisure
then get a taste of her tongue, like a lash.
 
Though it's a rum do I nod and agree
although it does so go against the grain,
but there, bottles, for all the world to see
an' me the tipsy culprit once again.
 
My corker of a plea ' wet the tot's head?'
spirited her not a bit same as before,
but I keep mild no bitter whining gets said
just bottle up because Jill knows the score.
 
For I take no offence, bear no ill will
For to cap it all I still need my gill.