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Things are seldom what they seem,
Skim milk masquerades as cream;
High-lows pass as patent leathers,
Jackdaws strut in peacocks’ feathers.
Very true, so they do.
Black sheep dwell in every fold,
All that glitters is not gold;
Storks turn out to be but logs,
Bulls are but inflated frogs.
So they be, frequently.
Drops the wind and stops the mill,
Turbot is ambitious brill;
Gild the farthing if you will,
Yet it is a farthing still.
Yes I know, that is so.
Though to catch your drift I’m striving, It is shady, it is shady.
I don’t see at what you’re driving, Mystic Lady, mystic lady.
Stern conviction’s o’er me stealing
That the mystic lady’s dealing
In oracular revealing,
Yes I know. That is so!