Aaron Hill

Tender handed stroke a nettle,
And it stings you for your pains;
Grasp it like a man read more

Tender handed stroke a nettle,
And it stings you for your pains;
Grasp it like a man of mettle,
And it soft as silk remains.

The doctors gave her over--to an ass.

The doctors gave her over--to an ass.

She was one of those who by fortune's boon
Are born, as they say, with a silver spoon
read more

She was one of those who by fortune's boon
Are born, as they say, with a silver spoon
In her mouth, not a wooden ladle.

The more the eggs, the worse the hatch,
The more the fish, the worse the catch.

The more the eggs, the worse the hatch,
The more the fish, the worse the catch.

When Christ at Cana's feast by pow'r divine,
Inspir'd cold water, with the warmth of wine,
See! read more

When Christ at Cana's feast by pow'r divine,
Inspir'd cold water, with the warmth of wine,
See! cry'd they while, in red'ning tide, it gush'd,
The bashful stream hath seen its God and blush'd.