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<div style="background:#fff;border:#bbb dashed 1px;padding:5px"><a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/comments.php?id=426365" style="color:#000;text-decoration:none"><div style="margin:10px 0"><strong>Market Women’s Cries</strong></div><div style="margin:10px 0">APPLES</div><div style="margin:10px 0">COME buy my fine wares, <br>Plums, apples and pears. <br>A hundred a penny, <br>In conscience too many: <br>Come, will you have any? <br>My children are seven, <br>I wish them in Heaven; <br>My husband ’s a sot, <br>With his pipe and his pot, <br>Not a farthen will gain them, <br>And I must maintain them. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">ONIONS</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Come, follow me by the smell, <br>Here are delicate onions to sell; <br>I promise to use you well. <br>They make the blood warmer, <br>You’ll feed like a farmer; <br>For this is every cook’s opinion, <br>No savoury dish without an onion; <br>But, lest your kissing should be spoiled, <br>Your onions must be thoroughly boiled: <br>Or else you may spare <br>Your mistress a share, <br>The secret will never be known: <br>She cannot discover <br>The breath of her lover, <br>But think it as sweet as her own. </div><div style="margin:10px 0">HERRINGS</div><div style="margin:10px 0">Be not sparing, <br>Leave off swearing. <br>Buy my herring <br>Fresh from Malahide, <br>Better never was tried. <br>Come, eat them with pure fresh butter and mustard, <br>Their bellies are soft, and as white as a custard. <br>Come, sixpence a dozen, to get me some bread, <br>Or, like my own herrings, I soon shall be dead.</div><div style="margin:10px 0"><br /></a><br />poem by <a href="http://en.citatepedia.ro/by.php?a=Jonathan+Swift">Jonathan Swift</a><div class=q>
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COME buy my fine wares, 
Plums, apples and pears. 
A hundred a penny, 
In conscience too many: 
Come, will you have any? 
My children are seven, 
I wish them in Heaven; 
My husband ’s a sot, 
With his pipe and his pot, 
Not a farthen wil..."></div>
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