Ye Wives Who Scold & Fishes Sell

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