The RazorSeller
A fellow in a markettown， Most musical， cried razors up and down，And offer'd twelve for eighteenpence：
Which certainly seem'd wondrous cheap， And for the money quite a heap， As every man would buy， with cash and sense.A country bumpkin the great offer heard；Poor Hodge， who suffer'd by a thick black beard，Thst seem'd a shoebrush stuck beneath his nose：With cheerfulness the eighteenpence he paid，And proudly to himself， in whispers， said， “This rascal stole the razors， I suppose.”No matter if the fellow be a knave ， Provided that the razors shave：
It sartinly will be a monstrous prize.“
So home the clown， with his good fortune wentAnd quickly soap'd himself to ears and eyes.Being well lather'd from a dish or tub， Hodge now began with grinning pain to grub， Just like a hedger cutting furze：
'Twas a vile razor！―then the rest he tried―
All were imposters―“Ah！” Hodge sigh'd， “I wish my eighteenpence within my purse.”
In vain to chase his beard，and bring the graces， He cut， and dug， and winc'd，and stamp'd，and swore，Brought blood， and danc'd， blasphem'd， and made wryfaces， And curs'd each razor's body o'er and o’er：His muzzle， form'd of opposition stuff， Firm as a Foxite， would not loose its ruff；So kept itlaughing at the steel and suds：
Hodge， in a passion， stretch'd his angry jaws， Vowing the direst vengeance，with clench'd claws，On the vile cheat that sold the goods.
'Razors！a damn'd confounded dog， Not fit to scrape a hog！
Hodge sought the fellowfound him， and begun “P'rhaps，Master Razorrogue，to you'tis fun That people flay themselves out of their lives：You rascal！ for an hour have I been grubbing，Giving my scoundrel whiskers here a scrubbing，With razors just like oysterknives.
Sirrah！ I tell you，you're a knave， To cry up razors that can't shave.“
“Friend，” quoth the razorman，I am no knave：As for the razors you have bought， Upon my soul I never thought That they would shave.“
“Not think they'd shave！”quoth Hodge， with wonderingeyes， And voice not much unlike an Indian yell；
“What were they made for then，you dog ？” he cries.
“Made！” quoth the fellow with a smile―“to sell.”
幽默 笑話本文地址：http://www.autochemexpert.com/writing/humor/73985.html
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