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FABLES FOR THE FRIVOLOUS
"You must dine some night at my rustic cottage;
I'll warn you now that it’s simple fare:
A radish or two, a bowl of pottage,
And the wine that’s known as ordinaire,
But for holes I haven’t to make a bee-line,
No prowling feline
Molests me there.
I'll warn you now that it’s simple fare:
A radish or two, a bowl of pottage,
And the wine that’s known as ordinaire,
But for holes I haven’t to make a bee-line,
No prowling feline
Molests me there.
"You smile at the lot of a mere commuter,
You think that my life is hard, mayhap,
But I’m sure than you I am far acuter:
I ain’t afraid of no cat nor trap."
The city rat could but meekly stammer,
"Don’t use such grammar,
My worthy chap."
You think that my life is hard, mayhap,
But I’m sure than you I am far acuter:
I ain’t afraid of no cat nor trap."
The city rat could but meekly stammer,
"Don’t use such grammar,
My worthy chap."
He dined next night with his poor relation,
And caught dyspepsia, and lost his train,
He waited an hour in the lonely station,
And said some things that were quite profane.
And caught dyspepsia, and lost his train,
He waited an hour in the lonely station,
And said some things that were quite profane.
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