Enter’d through curiosity a cot,
Where sat a poor old woman and her pot.
The wrinkled, blear-eyed, good old granny,
In this same cot, illum’d by many a cranny.
Had finish’d apple dumplings for her pot.
In tempting row the naked dumplings lay,
When lo! the monarch in his usual way
Like lightning spoke, “What this? what this? what? what?”
Then taking up a dumpling in his hand,
His eyes with admiration did expand,