THE DOLLS
 
 A DOLL in the doll-maker's house
 Looks at the cradle and bawls:
 "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
 There's 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-maker's 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, O dear.
 It was an accident.'