Farmer's Wife And Raven.

"Why are those tears? Why droops your head?             Say is your swain or husband dead?"             The farmer's wife said: "You know well             The salt was spilt, - to me it fell;             And then to add loss unto loss,             The knife and fork were laid across.             On Friday evening, 'tis too true,             Bounce in my lap a coffin flew.             Some dire misfortune it portends:             I tremble for my absent friends."             "Dame," said the neighbour, "tremble not:             Be all these prodigies forgot;             The while, at least, you eat your dinner             Bid the foul fiend avaunt - the sinner!             And soon as Betty clears the table             For a dessert, I'll read a fable.             "Betwixt her panniers rocked, on Dobbin             A matron rode to market bobbing,             Indulging in a trancelike dream             Of money for her eggs and cream;             When direful clamour from her broke:             'A raven on the left-hand oak!             His horrid croak bodes me some ill.'             Here Dobbin stumbled; 'twas down-hill,             And somehow he with failing legs             Fell, and down fell the cream and eggs.             She, sprawling, said, 'You rascal craven!             You - nasty - filthy - dirty - raven!'             'Goody,' said raven, 'spare your clamour,             There nothing here was done by glamour;             Get up again and wipe your gown,             It was not I who threw you down;             For had you laid your market ware             On Dun - the old sure-footed mare -             Though all the ravens in the Hundred             Had croaked till all the Hundred wondered,             Sure-footed Dun had kept her legs,             And you, good woman, saved your eggs.'"