Two little stumps,
               Mere pedal lumps,
        That toddle along with the funniest thumps
        In China, you know, are reckon’d trumps. 
        It seems a trifle, to make such a boast of it;
               But how they will dress it: 
               And bandage and press it,
        By making the least, to make the most of it! 
               As you may suppose,
               She had plenty of beaux
        Bowing around her beautiful toes,
        Praising her feet, and eyes, and nose
        In rapturous verse and elegant prose! 
        She had lots of lovers, old and young: 
        There was lofty Long, and babbling Lung,
        Opulent Tin, and eloquent Tung,
        Musical Sing, and, the rest among,
        Great Hang-Yu and Yu-be-Hung.

        But though they smiled, and smirk’d, and bow’d,
        None could please her of all the crowd;
        Lung and Tung she thought too loud;
        Opulent Tin was much too proud;
        Lofty Long was quite too tall;
        Musical Sing sung very small;
        And, most remarkable freak of all,
        Of great Hang-Yu the lady made game,
        And Yu-be-Hung she mocked the sama,
        By echoing back his ugly name!

        But the hardest heart is doom’d to melt;
        Love is a passion that will be felt;
        And just when scandal was making free
        To hint “What a pretty old maid she’d be,”—­
               Little Min-Ne,
               Who but she? 
        Married Ho-Ho of the Golden Belt! 
        A man, I must own, of bad reputation,
        And low in purse, though high in station,—­
        A sort of Imperial poor relation,
        Who rank’d as the Emperor’s second cousin
        Multiplied by a hundred dozen;
        And, to mark the love the Emperor felt,
               Had a pension clear
               Of three pounds a year,
        And the honour of wearing a Golden Belt! 
               And gallant Ho-Ho
               Could really show
        A handsome face, as faces go
        In this Flowery Land, where, you must know,
        The finest flowers of beauty grow. 
        He’d the very widest kind of jaws,
        And his nails were like an eagle’s claws,
        And—­though it may seem a wondrous tale—­
        (Truth is mighty and will prevail!)
        He’d a queue as long as the deepest cause
        Under the Emperor’s chancery laws!

Yet how he managed to win Min-Ne The men declared they couldn’t see; But all the ladies, over their tea, In this one point were known to agree:  Four gifts were sent to aid his plea:  A smoking-pipe with a golden clog, A box of tea and a poodle dog, And a painted heart that was all aflame, And bore, in blood, the lover’s name, Ah! how could presents