I saw a child: even if blind,
I could have seen she was not kind.
“My child,” said I, “don’t make that noise!
Here, choose among this heap of toys.”
She said “I’ve tumbled in the river:
And that’s what makes me shake and shiver.”
“And what’s your name, my child?” said I.
“It’s Juliet, sir,” she made reply.
“You know,” said she, “I hates my pa—
Never says nothing to my ma”—
“My child,” I cried, “you make me sad.
How can you be so very bad?”
At which she laughed in such a way,
I lost my hearing from that day.