stuck
So fast, no power on earth could pluck
The sad incumbrance away.
What could be done? Oh, hapless day!
She cried, she stamp'd, she tore her hair;
The fatal pudding still hung there.

[Illustration]

Oh! I shall die, said she, with shame!
Now, Master--who is most to blame?
My face again I ne'er can show,
I shall be hooted as I go--
What will the neighbours say--Oh! oh!

The sorrowing husband now repented;
And Susan in her turn resented:
While he, with looks most melancholy,
Confessed he'd equall'd her in folly;
Yet strove his weeping spouse to cheer:

Don't be cast down, said he, my dear!
Consider! we have one stake more.
We'll wish of wealth an endless store,
And you shall have such gay rich clothes,
That folks won't think about your nose:
Nay, it will ornament your face,
When cover'd with a golden case:
Therefore, my dearest, calm your passion!
We'll say nose-jewels are the fashion.

Sad Susan wav'd her head in woe,
The pudding too wav'd to and fro,
While she exclaim'd, I tell you, No,
You barbarous man! you talk in vain:
I'll never shew my face again:
I'll have no case of gold, not I;
But lay me down at once, and die!

Nay, said her mate--it shan't be so--
I'd sooner our last hope forego.
Our third wish will your peace restore,
We are but where we were before.
I will my luckless wish revoke,
Recall the words I rashly spoke,
And to relieve you from this evil,
I WISH THE PUDDING AT THE DEVIL!

Obedient to this prudent wish,
The pudding fell, and in its dish
Flew up the chimney as it came,
And thus restor'd the suffering dame;
Who, freed from anguish, now could show
Her own dear nose--_in statu quo_:
Yet scarce recovered, laugh'd and cried,
'Twixt joy--and disappointed pride.

[Illustration]

Quoth Homespun--To my mind, my dame,
A tricking fairy is that same!
Why did she meddle thus about us?
To tempt us first, and then to flout us?--
But let us not complain, my Sue;
The fairy to her word was true,
And if our schemes are overthrown,
In faith, the fault is all our own.
A wholesome lesson she has taught,
Though it is somewhat dearly bought,
And should she call another day,
She'll find it is not thrown away--
For as we have regained our senses,
We'll lay aside our vain pretences,
Temper our hopes with moderation,
AND SUIT OUR WISHES TO OUR STATION.

THE