I wish the pudding on your nose!
[p26]
The words escap’d, he gain’d his wish.
The pudding, rising from its dish,
On Goody Homespun’s nose was 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.