What Is A Woman Like?

A woman is like to, but stay,
    What a woman is like, who can say?
    There is no living with or without one.
    Love bites like a fly,
    Now an ear, now an eye,
Buzz, buzz, always buzzing about one.
    When she's tender and kind
    She is like to my mind,
(And Fanny was so, I remember).
    She's like to, Oh, dear!
    She's as good, very near,
As a ripe, melting peach in September.
    If she laugh, and she chat,
    Play, joke, and all that,
And with smiles and good humor she meet me,
    She's like a rich dish
    Of venison or fish,
That cries from the table, Come eat me!
    But she'll plague you and vex you,
    Distract and perplex you;
    False-hearted and ranging,
    Unsettled and changing,
    What then do you think, she is like?
        Like sand? Like a rock?
        Like a wheel? Like a clock?
    Ay, a clock that is always at strike.
Her head's like the island folks tell on,
Which nothing but monkeys can dwell on;
Her heart's like a lemon, so nice
She carves for each lover a slice;
    In truth she's to me,
    Like the wind, like the sea,
Whose raging will hearken to no man;
    Like a mill, like a pill,
    Like a flail, like a whale,
    Like an ass, like a glass
Whose image is constant to no man;
    Like a shower, like a flower,
    Like a fly, like a pie,
    Like a pea, like a flea,
    Like a thief, like, in brief,
She's like nothing on earth, but a woman!