PONTIUS (who loves, you know, a joke, Much better than he loves his life) Chanced t'other morning to provoke The patience of a well bred wife. Talking of you, said he, my dear, Two of the greatest wits in town, One asked, if that high furze of hair Was, bona fide, all your own. Her own! most certain, t'other said; For Nan, who knows the thing, will tell ye, The hair was bought, the money paid, And the receipt was signed Ducailly. Pontia (that civil prudent she, Who values wit much less than sense, And never darts a repartee, But purely in her own defence) Replied, these friends of yours, my dear, Are given extremely much to satire! But pr'ythee, husband, let one hear Sometimes less wit, and more good-nature. Now I have one unlucky thought, That would have spoiled your friend's conceit; Some hair I have, I'm sure, unbought: Pray bring your brother wits to see 't. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...JOHN BARLEYCORN by ROBERT BURNS THE WHITE CASCADE by WILLIAM HENRY DAVIES THE DORCHESTER GIANT by OLIVER WENDELL HOLMES POEMS ON THE SLAVE TRADE: 6 by ROBERT SOUTHEY UPON A SPIDER CATCHING A FLY by EDWARD TAYLOR WHEN THE SULTAN GOES TO ISPAHAN by THOMAS BAILEY ALDRICH PEARLS OF THE FAITH: 18. AL-RAZZAK by EDWIN ARNOLD THE BROTHERS OF BIRCHINGTON; A LAY OF ST. THOMAS A BECKET by RICHARD HARRIS BARHAM |