Thomas Hood

Gold! Gold! Gold! Bright and yellow, hard and cold.

Gold! Gold! Gold! Bright and yellow, hard and cold.

'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.

A cup concealed in the dress is rarely honestly carried.

A cup concealed in the dress is rarely honestly carried.

A man of refined taste and judgment.

A man of refined taste and judgment.

With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat in unwomanly rags,
read more

With fingers weary and worn,
With eyelids heavy and red,
A woman sat in unwomanly rags,
Plying her needle and thread.