UY, who'll buy," the pedlar sings, "Bones of beggars, loins of kings, Ribs of murder, haunch of hate, And Beauty's head on a butcher's plate!" Hook by hook, on steaming stalls, The hero hangs, the harlot sprawls; For Helen's flesh, in such a street, Is only a kind of dearer meat. "Buy, who'll buy," the pedlar begs, "Angel-wings and lady-legs, Tender bits and dainty parts— Buy, who'll buy my skewered hearts?" Buy, who'll buy?
The cleavers fall, The dead men creak, the live men call, And I (God save me) bargained there, Paid my pennies and ate my share.
