Eben.—
Why should I thank him—just observe that leg—
Is that a masterpiece—that wooden peg?
Is that the kind of thing to drag about?
It isn’t decent—there’s no sort of doubt;
And then, those thumbs—he’s put ’em wrong side on—
That left one should be like the other one.
They’re wrong—and then, he’s made me much too short;
I ought to have been taller—yes!—I ought;
And look at all that hair—that ugly nose;