They braced my aunt against a board,

To make her straight and tall;

They laced her up, they starved her down,

To make her light and small;

They pinched her feet, they singed her hair,
They screwed it up with pins:

O, never mortal suffered more

In penance for her sins.

So, when my precious aunt was done,
My grandsire brought her back
(By daylight, lest some rabid youth
Might follow on the track):

"Ah!" said my grandsire, as he shook
Some powder in his pan,

"What could this lovely creature do

Against a desperate man!"