But the Boggles stayed in hidin', for the Boggles were discreet,
And the Gnad he cast his eye around for something he could eat.
"'Sool 'em, Towser!' shouted Martin, dancin' 'mid his ravaged crops;
But the Gnad regarded Martin as he slowly licked his chops.
An' the last we seen of Martin, far as I can call to mind,
He was tearin' round his paddick with the Gnad just close behind.
"First it was the Grimble Grubs,
Which they et his taters,
Then it was the Wuzzle Swooks—
Plague of cultivators—
Then it was the Guffer Birds,
Native of Mauritius,
Then it was the Warty Swunks,
Beady-eyed an' vicious,
Then it was the Boggle Dogs,
With their snarls and snort in',
Till the bad voracious Gnad
Finished his imp or tin'.
An' all because the Grimble Grubs
They got into his taters
We never found a stitch of him
But blucher boots and gaiters."
