And she pricks you, and she sticks you in a way that can’t be said—
When you ask for what has hurt you, why you cannot find the head.
But she fills you with discomfort and exasperating pain—
If anybody asks you why, you really can’t explain.
A pin is such a tiny thing—of that there is no doubt—
Yet when it’s sticking in your flesh, you’re wretched till it’s out.
She is wonderfully observing—when she meets a pretty girl
She is always sure to tell her if her “bang” is out of curl.
And she is so sympathetic to her friend, who’s much admired,
She is often heard remarking: “Dear, you look so worn and tired!”