| So that's Cleopathera's Needle, bedad, An' a quare lookin' needle it is, I'll be bound; What a powerful muscle the queen must have had That could grasp such a weapon an' wind it around! Imagine her sittin' there stitchin' like mad Wid a needle like that in her hand! I declare It's as big as the Round Tower of Slane, an', bedad, It would pass for a round tower, only it's square! The taste of her, ordherin' a needle of granite! Begorra, the sight of it sthrikes me quite dumb! An' look at the quare sort of figures upon it; I wondher can these be the thracks of her thumb! I once was astonished to hear of the faste Cleopathera made upon pearls; but now I declare, I would not be surprised in the laste If ye told me the woman had swallowed a cow! It's aisy to see why bould Cæsar should quail In her presence, an' meekly submit to her rule; Wid a weapon like that in her fist I'll go bail She could frighten the sowl out of big Finn MacCool! But, Lord, what poor pigmies the women are now, Compared with the monsthers they must have been then! Whin the darlin's in those days would kick up a row, Holy smoke, but it must have been hot for the men! Just think how a chap that goes courtin' would start If his girl was to prod him wid that in the shins! I have often seen needles, but bouldly assart That the needle in front of me there takes the pins! O, sweet Cleopathera! I'm sorry you're dead; An' whin lavin' this wondherful needle behind Had ye thought of bequathin' a spool of your thread An' yer thimble an' scissors, it would have been kind. But pace to your ashes, ye plague of great men, Yer strength is departed, yer glory is past; Ye'll never wield sceptre or needle again, An' a poor little asp did yer bizzness at last! Cormac O'Leary. |
