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<h2> MAD POLL </h2>
<p>There goes mad Poll, dressed in wild flowers,<br/>
Poor, crazy Poll, now old and wan;<br/>
Her hair all down, like any child:<br/>
She swings her two arms like a man.<br/>
<br/>
Poor, crazy Poll is never sad,<br/>
She never misses one that dies;<br/>
When neighbours show their new-born babes,<br/>
They seem familiar to her eyes.<br/>
<br/>
Her bonnet's always in her hand,<br/>
Or on the ground, and lying near;<br/>
She thinks it is a thing for play,<br/>
Or pretty show, and not to wear.<br/>
<br/>
She gives the sick no sympathy,<br/>
She never soothes a child that cries;<br/>
She never whimpers, night or day,<br/>
She makes no moans, she makes no sighs.<br/>
<br/>
She talks about some battle old,<br/>
Fought many a day from yesterday;<br/>
And when that war is done, her love—<br/>
"Ha, ha!" Poll laughs, and skips away.<br/></p>
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