POEMS OF WIT AND HUMOUR. A TALE OF A TRUMPET. "Old woman, old woman, will you go a-shearing? OLD BALLAD. Or all old women hard of hearing, The deafest, sure, was Dame Eleanor Spearing! On her head, it is true, Two flaps there grew, That served for a pair of gold rings to go through, But for any purpose of ears in a parley, They heard no more than ears of barley. No hint was needed from D. E. F. You saw in her face that the woman was deon B From her twisted mouth to her eyes so peery, A look that said in a silent way, "Who? and What? and How? and Eh? I'd give my ears to know what you say! And never hears a word of a row! Ears that might serve her now and then As extempore racks for an idle pen ; Or to hang with hoops from jewellers' shops But as for hearing wisdom, or wit, Har piano, fiddle, or kit, They might as well, for any such wish, Have been butter'd, done brown, and laid in a dish! She was deaf as a post,-as said before— She was deaf as a house-which modern tricks Her drum, indeed, was so muffled a drum, She was deaf as a stone-say one of the stones And surely deafness no further could reach She was deaf as a nut-for nuts, no doubt, In addressing the "dull, cold ear of death "), Or the Felon's ear that was stuff'd with Cotton |