The Dolls

The Dolls

A DOLL in the doll-makers house

Looks at the cradle and balls:

That is an insult to us.

But the oldest of all the dolls

Who had seen, being kept for show,

Generations of his sort,

Out-screams the whole shelf: Although

Theres not a man can report

Evil of this place,

The man and the woman bring

Hither to our disgrace,

A noisy and filthy thing.

Hearing him groan and stretch

The doll-maker1s wife is aware

Her husband has heard the wretch,

And crouched by the arm of his chair,

She murmurs into his ear,

Head upon shoulder leant:

My dear, my dear, oh dear,

It was an accident.