LITTLE Anna, cruel elf, <br /> Spite of all my reason, <br />She yet puts me from myself <br /> In and out of season; <br />Ah, the may, ah, the fay, <br /> Glee to mischief wedded! <br />Foe to rest, she's a pest, <br /> And always to be dreaded! <br /> <br /> Chorus—Ah, the may, ah, the fay? <br /> Glee to mischief wedded! <br /> Foe to rest, she's a pest? <br /> And always to be dreaded! <br /> <br />Never goes the sun around, <br /> But upon me stealing, <br />She, she doth my soul confound, <br /> Sends my reason reeling; <br />Gars me sing, and while, alack, <br /> I in glee am singing, <br />On me turns and in a crack, <br /> Gives my ear a-wringing. <br /> <br /> Chorus—Ah, the may, etc. <br /> <br />Pat she comes and goes, the wasp! <br /> Back anon she hummeth; <br />Round my neck her hands to clasp, <br /> That to do she cometh; <br />So she leads me to suppose <br /> By her air entrancing, <br />Till I'm twitted by the nose <br /> And again sent dancing. <br /> <br /> Chorus—Ah, the may, etc. <br /> <br />Ear or nose, or wrung or stung, <br /> 'Tween a thumb and finger, <br />How to be avenged now long <br /> Lost in doubt I linger; <br />Then when I resolved at last <br /> Rush her pride to humble; <br />Lo, o'er me a glamour cast, <br /> O'er the stools I tumble, <br /> <br /> Chorus—Ah, the may, etc. <br /> <br />Head-a-turned, heart-a-burned, <br /> Nay reduced to cinders; <br />Nose-a-stung, ears-a-wrung, <br /> Shins all sent to flinders; <br />Pale and thin, bone and skin— <br /> I'm a spectre merely; <br />And he who'd play my part might say <br /> He'd bought his whistle dearly. <br /> <br /> Chorus—Ah, the may, etc.<br /><br />Joseph Skipsey<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/cruel-anna/
