Oh, I know a certain lady who is reckoned with the good, 
Yet she fills me with more terror than a raging lion would.
The little chills run up and down my spine whene?er we meet, 
Though she seems a gentle creature, and she?s very trim and neat.

And she has a thousand virtues and not one acknowledged sin, 
But she is the sort of person you could liken to a pin.
And she pricks you and she sticks you in a way that can?t be said.
If you seek for what has hurt you ? why, you cannot find the head.

But she fills you with discomfort and exasperating pain.
If anybody asks you why, you really can?t explain! 
A pin is such a tiny thing, of that there is no doubt, 
Yet when it?s sticking in your flesh you?re wretched till it?s out.

She?s wonderfully observing ? when she meets a pretty girl, 
She is always sure to tell her if her hair is out of curl; 
And she is so sympathetic to her friend who?s much admires, 
She is often heard remarking, `Dear, you look so worn and tired.?

And she is an honest critic, for on yesterday she eyed
The new dress I was airing with a woman?s natural pride, 
And she said, `Oh, how becoming! ? and then gently added, `it
Is really a misfortune that the basque is such a fit.?

Then she said, `If you heard me yester eve, I?m sure, my friend, 
You would say I was a champion who knows how to defend.?
And she left me with the feeling ? most unpleasant, I aver ?
That the whole world would despise me is it hadn?t been for her.

Whenever I encounter her, in such a nameless way
She gives me the impression I am at my worst that day.
And the hat that was imported (and cost me half a sonnet) , 
With just one glance from her round eyes becomes a Bowery bonnet.

She is always bright and smiling, sharp and pointed for a thrust; 
Use does not seem to blunt her point, nor does she gather rust.
Oh! I wish some hapless specimen of mankind would begin
To tidy up the world for me, by picking up this pin!