From the dark caverns of the earth
Our family derive their birth;
By nature we appear to view
A rugged and a stubborn crew:
But Vulcan's brawny sons, by art,
Soften the hardness of our heart;
Give to a slender shape its grace,
And a bright polish to our face.
Thus education makes us mild,
Pliant and ductile as a child.
Survey the' attire of man, you'll trace
Our friendship for the human race.
We love mankind, indeed we do,
Our actions prove our speeches true.
But what is wondrous strange to name,
The aged female is our flame.
When strength decays, and optics fail,
And cold and penury prevail,
Our labours spare the matron's sight,
We ask but faint supplies of light,
Kindly our ancient girls regale,
With food, with fuel, and with ale.
We, as associates to mankind,
All act our various parts assign'd.
No useless hands obstruct our schemes,
We suit our numbers to our themes;
Hence only two of us apply,
To form a bandage for the thigh;
But when the grey industrious Peg
Demands a vestment for the leg,
'Tis then in little crowds we join
To aid the matron's wise design.
Thus four or five of us you'll see,
And each as busy as a bee;
Besides a kind assistant near,
Which Peg had stuck athwart her ear.
Now, lasses, if our name you'll tell,
And vow you'll always use us well,
We'll grant your wish to change your life,
And make each fair a happy wife.

KNITTING NEEDLE

T O you, fair maidens, I address,
Sent to adorn your life;
And she who first my name can guess,
Shall first be made a wife.

From the dark womb of mother earth,
To mortal's aid I come;
But ere I can receive my birth,
I many shapes assume.

Passive by nature, yet I'm made
As active as the roe;
And oftentimes, with equal speed,
Through flowery lawns I go.

When wicked men their wealth consume,
And leave their children poor,
To me their daughters often come,
And I encrease their store.

The women of the wiser kind,
Did never once refuse me;
But yet I never once could find
That maids of honour use me.

The lily hand and brilliant eye,
May charm without my aid;
Beauty may strike the lover's eye,
And love inspire the maid.

But let the enchanting nymph be told,
Unless I grace her life,
She must have wondrous store of gold,
Or make a wretched wife.

Although I never hope to rest,
With Christians I go forth;
And while they worship to the east,
I prostrate to the north.

If you suspect hypocrisy,
Or think me insincere,
Produce the zealot, who, like me,
Can tremble and adhere.

NEEDLE

I AM by nature soft as silk,
By nature too as white as milk;
I am a constant friend to man,
And serve him every way I can.
When dipt in wax, or plung'd in oil,
I make his winter evenings smile;

By India taught I spread his bed,
Or deck his favourite Celia's head;
Her gayest garbs I oft compose,
And ah! sometimes, I wipe her nose

NOSE

I AM a small volume, and frequently bound
In silk, satin, silver, or gold;
My worth and my praises the females resound,
By females my science is told.

My leaves are all scarlet, my letters are steel,
Each letter contains a great treasure;
To the poor they spell lodging, and fuel, and meal,
To the rich, entertainment and pleasure.

The sempstress explores me by day and by night,
Not a page but she turns o'er and o'er;
Though sometimes I injure the milliner's sight,
Still I add to her credit and store.

'Tis true I am seldom regarded by men,
Yet what would the males do without me?
Let them boast of their head, or boast of their pen,
Still vain is their boast if they flout me.