POEMS OF WIT AND HUMOUR. A TALE OF A TRUMPET. "Old woman, old woman, will you go a-shearing? OLD BALLAD. Of 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 deaf: B From her twisted mouth to her eyes so peery, Each queer feature ask'd a query; 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 well she might! for each auricular Ears that might serve her now and then Or to hang with hoops from jewellers' shops Harp, 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— Including the adder, that deafest of snakes, She was deaf as a house-which modern tricks Her drum, indeed, was so muffled a drum, That none could get a sound to come, 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, Are deaf to the grub that's hollowing out As deaf, alas! as the dead and forgotten(Gray has noticed the waste of breath, In addressing the "dull, cold ear of death"), Or the Felon's ear that was stuff'd with Cotton |