Tinker Jack And The Tidy Wives

‘Come lady, bring that pot

Gone black of polish

And whatever pan this mending master

Should trim back to shape.

I'll correct each mar

On silver dish,

And shine that kettle of copper

At your fireside

Bright as blood.

‘Come lady, bring that face

Fallen from luster.

Time's soot in bleared eye

Can be made to glister

For small charge.

No form's gone so awry,

Crook-back or bandy-leg,

But Tinker Jack can forge

Beauty from hag.

‘Whatever scath

Fierce fire's wrought

Jack will touch up

And fit for use.

What scar's been knocked

Into cracked heart

Jack shall repair.

‘And if there be

Young wives still blithe,

Still fair,

Whose labor's not yet smoked

Their fine skin sere,

From their white heat

Before he part

Let Jack catch fire.’