 | The complete poetical works of Thomas Hood |  |
661
[FRAGMENT]
(EVIDENTLY SUPPOSED TO BE SPOKEN BY MRS. REYNOLDS, MOTHER OF THE POET'S WIFE)
Mary, I believ'd you quick
But you're as deaf as any beedle;
See where you have left the plates;
You've an eye, and so's a needle.
Why an't Anne behind the door,
Standing ready with her dishes,
No one ever had such maids
Always thwarting all my wishes,
Marianne set up that child—
And where's her pinafore—call Mary,
The frock I made her will be spoil'd—
Now Lizzy don't be so contrary,
Hand round the bread—‘Thank God for what—’
It's done to rags! How wrong of Ann now,—
The dumplings too are hard as read
And plates stone-cold—but that's her plan now—
Mary, a knock—now Hood take that—
Or go without—Why, George, you're wanted,
Where is that Lotte? Call her down
She knows there's no white wine decanted—
Put to the door, we always dine
In public—
But you're as deaf as any beedle;
See where you have left the plates;
You've an eye, and so's a needle.
Why an't Anne behind the door,
Standing ready with her dishes,
No one ever had such maids
Always thwarting all my wishes,
Marianne set up that child—
And where's her pinafore—call Mary,
The frock I made her will be spoil'd—
Now Lizzy don't be so contrary,
Hand round the bread—‘Thank God for what—’
It's done to rags! How wrong of Ann now,—
The dumplings too are hard as read
And plates stone-cold—but that's her plan now—
Mary, a knock—now Hood take that—
Or go without—Why, George, you're wanted,
Where is that Lotte? Call her down
She knows there's no white wine decanted—
Put to the door, we always dine
In public—
Jane take that cover off the greens;
Our earthen ware they play the deuce to;
Here's Mr. Green without a fork—
And I've no plate—but that I'm used to.—
Our earthen ware they play the deuce to;
Here's Mr. Green without a fork—
And I've no plate—but that I'm used to.—
| The complete poetical works of Thomas Hood | |