In the Room by James Thomson.

Part 3 of 13.

The cupboard grumbled

with a groan,
Each new day worse starvation brings:
Since he came here I have not known
Or sweets or cates or wholesome things:
But now! a pinch of meal, a crust,
Throughout the week is all I get.
I am so empty; it is just
As when they said we were to let.

What is become, then, of our Man?
The petulant old glass exclaim’d;
If all this time he slumber can,
He really ought to be ashamed.
I wish we had our Girl again,
So and busy, bright and fair:
The girls are better than these men,
Who only for their dull selves care.