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 Anne now,— The dumplings too are hard as lead And plates stone-cold—but that's her plan now— Mary, a knock—now George 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 earthenware they play the deuce to; Here's Mr. Green without a fork— And I've no plate—but that I'm used to.— | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...THEY ACCUSE ME OF NOT TALKING by HAYDEN CARRUTH WRITTEN IN NORTHAMPTON COUNTY ASYLUM by JOHN CLARE TO WILLIAM WORDSWORTH by SAMUEL TAYLOR COLERIDGE I SIT AND SEW by ALICE RUTH MOORE DUNBAR-NELSON BRIDAL BALLAD by EDGAR ALLAN POE AMONG THE REDWOODS by EDWARD ROWLAND SILL |