“It’s too bad that he’s so careless with his rhymes. His imagination is extraordinary. Very original.”

Wig: Down on his neck.

Keesje, the Butcher’s Boy: “In Praise of the Teacher.”

My father has slaughtered many a steer,

But Master Pennewip is still living, I hear;

Some are lean, and some are well-fed,

He has slipped his wig to the side of his head.

The wig actually went to the side of his head.

“Well, this is curious. I hardly know what to say about it.”

The wig slipped to the other side.