Whose plump cheeks are so covered with ribbons and bows,
That like owl from out ivy appears each peak'd nose.
That the maidens were fair is a fib I can't tell you,
And, what was most strange, 'twas a fact they both well knew,
For their eyes tow'rds each other were friendly inclined,
While their locks would bring carrots at once to your mind.
But their tempers were sweet as the extract of bees,
And where'er they might go they were certain to please.
The old farmer himself is a jovial fellow,
With a loud, pealing laugh, as melodious and mellow