Classic Poem

There is an old hag, to my sorrow I know,
Who refuses to die and is worse than a crow;
Though you drench her with wine, though you offer her money
She will not relent and still spies on my honey.
If the darling smiles at me she boxes her ears,
The horrid old wretch, and then laughs at her tears.
O Queen of the Shades, if thou truly didst love
Adonis thy darling sent down from above,
Take pity upon us to bring us relief
And grant to two lovers an end of their grief.
Save us, pray, from the grip of that harridan cruel
Before she can do any harm to my jewel.