O lend me your ear! if that ear can forego,
For a moment, the music that bubbles below,—
From your new Surrey Geisers[216] all foaming and hot,—
That soft "simmer's sang" so endear'd to the Scot—
If your hands may stand still, or your steam without danger—
If your suds will not cool, and a mere simple stranger,
Both to you and to washing, may put in a rub—
O wipe out your Amazon arms from the tub—
And lend me your ear,—Let me modestly plead
For a race that your labours may soon supersede—