Come, come, I’m not fond of these jokes;
This must be some blade of the brain—
Those witches are given to hoax.
I’ve one in my pocket, I know,
My wife left on purpose behind her;
She bought this of Teddy-high-ho,
The poor Caledonian grinder.
I see thee again! o’er thy middle
Large drops of red blood now are spill’d,
Just as much as to say, diddle diddle,