His rum-ti-tiddily-um-ti-tum.
O woman (though angel in moments of pain,
When angels of pity are most à propos),
Why, why won't you listen when husbands explain
The things they have thought and the knowledge they know?
And why do you smile when they beg to repeat?
And why are you bored when they make it all clear?
And why do you label their emphasis "heat,"
And bid them "Be careful; the servants may hear"?
The argument leaves me, though ever more sure,