Ye Wives who scold fishes sell, br Or sing sell your fruit, br I want a wondrous thing to tell, br Then (if you can) be mute. br From some of You one Homer came, br Who wrote a ballad first, br For He knew neither Parents name br Nor livd where he was nurst br His verse in length exceeds us all br So when a crowd he drew, br Like you he got him to a stall, br spoke as long as you. br Some tatterd Mermaid gave him birth br Who crys her oyster wares br Or Else some ragged nymph of earth br Who sings her Mellow pears br If 'twas the nymph of fruit was prest, br Apollo was ye Lover: br With tunefull cry he filld her breast, br got a singing Rover. br A Man, tho blind, yet usd to ply br Where 'ere he heard of Chear; br His dog it seems preserved an eye, br Its Master livd by ear. br Or if Apollo chancd to Love br The Mermaid near ye sea, br Whose shriller voice he taught to move br With buy my oysters pray. br Her shriller voice when raised to Ire br Woud thunder on ye crew, br So from ye Mother ye Sire br Old Homers Iliad grew. br then (as big with child she stood) br The place she sold her fishes br Might in his fancy form a floud br To rage in all th' Odysses.