Lame I am not, neither crooked,
Nothing in my body’s wrong;
Locks like lilies, when I stand up,
Sweep the ground, they are so long.
Though my mouth is like an eagle’s,
And a little flat my nose,
With my topaz teeth,—of beauty
I’ve enough for Heaven, with those.
And my voice is, if you listen,
Equal to the best, I trow;