Fast by this pair of pliers!
My wife’s arm I had lock’d in mine,
But soon they forced her from it;
And she was lugg’d into the Sun,
And I into the Comet!
Jamm’d to a jelly, there I sat,
Each one against me pushing;
And my poor gouty legs seem’d made
For each one’s pins—a cushion!
My wife some time had gone before: