A kind old man in Baghdad br Gave his daughter to a cobbler. br The cruel little man so bit her br That blood flowed from the daughter’s lips. br Next morning the father saw her thus br And going to the bridegroom asked him: br ‘O mean wretch, what teeth are these? br Chewest thou thus her lips? They are not leather. br I do not say these words in jest, br Leave joking off and enjoy her seriously. br If ill humour becomes fixed in a nature br It will not leave it till the time of death.