Page 42 - Poetry-Whimsy

The First Needle

“Have you heard the new invention, my dears,
That a man has invented?” said she.
“It’s a stick with an eye
Through which you can tie
A thread so long, it acts like a thong,
And the men have such fun,
To see the thing run!
A firm strong thread, through that eye at the head,
Is pulled over the edges most craftily,
And makes a beautiful seam to see!”

“What, instead of those wearisome thorns, my dear,
Those wearisome thorns?” cried they.
“The seam we pin
Driving them in,
But where are they by the end of the day,
With dancing, and jumping, and leaps by the sea?
For wintry weather
They won’t hold together,
Seal-skins and bear-skins all dropping round
Off from our shoulders down to the ground.
The thorns, the tiresome thorns, will prick,
But none of them ever consented to stick!
Oh, won’t the men let us this new thing use?
If we mend their clothes they can’t refuse.
Ah, to sew up a seam for them to see
What a treat, a delightful treat, ‘twill be!”

“Yes, a nice thing, too, for the babies, my dears,
But alas, there is but one!” cried she.
“I saw them passing it round, and then
They said it was fit for only men!
What woman would know
How to make the thing go?
There was not a man so foolish to dream
That any woman could sew up a seam!”

Oh, then there was babbling and scrabbling, my dears!
“At least they might let us do that!” cried they.

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