the fox and the hen.

a fable.

speaking within compass, as to fabulousness i prefer southcote to northcote.—pigrogromitus.

one day, or night, no matter where or when,

sly reynard, like a foot-pad, laid his pad

right on the body of a speckled hen,

determined upon taking all she had;

and like a very bibber at his bottle,

began to draw the claret from her throttle;

of course it put her in a pretty pucker.

and with a scream as high

as she could cry,

she called for help—she had enough of sucker.

dame partlet’s scream

waked, luckily, the house-dog from his dream,

[pg 264]

and with a savage growl

in answer to the fowl,

he bounded forth against the prowling sinner.

and, uninvited, came to the fox dinner.