What Is A Woman Like?

A woman is like to, but stay,         What a woman is like, who can say?         There is no living with or without one.         Love bites like a fly,         Now an ear, now an eye,     Buzz, buzz, always buzzing about one.         When she's tender and kind         She is like to my mind,     (And Fanny was so, I remember).         She's like to, Oh, dear!         She's as good, very near,     As a ripe, melting peach in September.         If she laugh, and she chat,         Play, joke, and all that,     And with smiles and good humor she meet me,         She's like a rich dish         Of venison or fish,     That cries from the table, Come eat me!         But she'll plague you and vex you,         Distract and perplex you;         False-hearted and ranging,         Unsettled and changing,         What then do you think, she is like?             Like sand? Like a rock?             Like a wheel? Like a clock?         Ay, a clock that is always at strike.     Her head's like the island folks tell on,     Which nothing but monkeys can dwell on;     Her heart's like a lemon, so nice     She carves for each lover a slice;         In truth she's to me,         Like the wind, like the sea,     Whose raging will hearken to no man;         Like a mill, like a pill,         Like a flail, like a whale,         Like an ass, like a glass     Whose image is constant to no man;         Like a shower, like a flower,         Like a fly, like a pie,         Like a pea, like a flea,         Like a thief, like, in brief,     She's like nothing on earth, but a woman!