But what harmonious armies now besiege
The ears and pockets of each simple liege:
Jew German minstrels, in Whitechapel born,
Brazen performers on a brazen horn,
And he who, having nothing to put in
His empty mouth, plays tunes upon his chin.
Forsaking soap, my washerwoman's daughters
Practise soprano, "o'er the dark blue waters,"
On drying days supreme their glory shines,
And soars aloft, to C above the lines.