Tales.
109
In haste he to the fire applies it,
And turns it round and round, and eyes it. 160
Heigh, jingo! worse than 't was before;
The more it warms it twirls the more.
He stamp'd his cloven foot, and chas'd;
The husband and the lady laugh'd.
Howe'er, he fancy'd sure enough 165
He should not find it hammer-proof.
No Cyclops e'er at work was warmer
At forging thunderbolts or armour
Than Satan was; but all in vain:
Again he beats—it curls again! 170
At length he bellow'd in a rage,
"This hair will take me up an age."
"This take an age!" the husband swore,
"Z—ds! Betty has five hundred more."
"More! Take your bond," quoth Pug. "Adieu;
"'Tis loss of time to ply for you." 176
And turns it round and round, and eyes it. 160
Heigh, jingo! worse than 't was before;
The more it warms it twirls the more.
He stamp'd his cloven foot, and chas'd;
The husband and the lady laugh'd.
Howe'er, he fancy'd sure enough 165
He should not find it hammer-proof.
No Cyclops e'er at work was warmer
At forging thunderbolts or armour
Than Satan was; but all in vain:
Again he beats—it curls again! 170
At length he bellow'd in a rage,
"This hair will take me up an age."
"This take an age!" the husband swore,
"Z—ds! Betty has five hundred more."
"More! Take your bond," quoth Pug. "Adieu;
"'Tis loss of time to ply for you." 176
