And fills with awful screams the flies.
By straining and shrieking she reaches the notes,
Out of tune, out of time too, the wild music floats;
Till, by degrees, the vigorous bawl
Seems to decay,
And melts away
In a feeble, feeble squall.
In music there's a medium, you know;
Don't sing too high nor sink too low.
If in a house tumultuous rows arise,