Thomas Hood

'Tis strange how like a very dunce,
Man, with his bumps upon his sconce,
Has lived so read more

'Tis strange how like a very dunce,
Man, with his bumps upon his sconce,
Has lived so long, and yet no knowledge he
Has had, till lately, of Phrenology--
A science that by simple dint of
Head-combing he should find a hint of,
When scratching o'er those little pole-hills
The faculties throw up like mole hills.

But who would rush at a benighted man, and give him two black eyes for being blind?.

But who would rush at a benighted man, and give him two black eyes for being blind?.

Spontaneously to God should turn the soul,
Like the magnetic needle to the pole;
But what were read more

Spontaneously to God should turn the soul,
Like the magnetic needle to the pole;
But what were that intrinsic virtue worth,
Suppose some fellow, with more zeal than knowledge,
Fresh from St. Andrew's College,
Should nail the conscious needle to the north?

A leech that will not quit the skin until sated with blood.

A leech that will not quit the skin until sated with blood.

It's very hard! Oh, Dick, my boy,
It's very hard one can't enjoy
A little private spouting;
read more

It's very hard! Oh, Dick, my boy,
It's very hard one can't enjoy
A little private spouting;
But sure as Lear or Hamlet lives,
Up comes our master, Bounce! and gives
The tragic Muse a routing.