A CHANGE hath come over young Fanny,
The yellow-hair'd lass of the Dene—
Erewhile she look's cosy and canny,
But now—now, what aileth the queen?

Erewhile she'd the bearing which blesses
The heart of the weary and worn,
Now all Percy Main she distresses,
And burdens the air with her scorn.

Erewhile she was sweet as the lily,
And mild as the lamb on the lea,
Now sour as the docken, and truly
More fierce than a tiger is she.

Erewhile she would play with the kitten,
Averse to contention and strife,
Now Tab on the house-top is sitting
And dare not come down for her life.

'What aileth the jewel?' Quoth granny;
'What aileth the winds when they blow?
When the reason's no secret to Fanny,
The reason we mortals may know.'