University of Virginia Library

Fab. XII. The Farmer and the Hare.

A Hare did once into a Garden get
Belonging to a Farm;
Where she began to throw up Earth, and eat,
And do some little Harm.
The Farmer cours'd her round and round,
But got her not way;
Puss took a liking to the Ground,
And there resolv'd to stay.

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Well, quoth the Fellow, in a Fret,
Since you are grown so bold,
I shall some more Assistance get,
And drive you from your Hold.
And strait he sends to a young Squire,
That he, by break of day,
Would with his Pack of Hounds repair,
And sport himself that way.
The Squire, as ask'd, attended came,
With Folks, and Horse, and Hounds,
And in pursuance of the Game,
Rode over all the Grounds.
They leapt the Ditches, broke the Hedges down,
And made most fearful Wast;
They trampl'd all the Garden round,
And kill'd poor Puss at last
At this the Farmer tore his Hair,
And swore most bloodily,
Z---ds! What confounded work is here?
And what a Fool am I?
Not fifty Hares, in fifty Days,
Had so much mischief done,
As this good Sqaire (whom I must praise
And thank) hath wrought in One.

If our Deliverance from the Frights
Of standing Army near,
And silly superstitious Rites,
Worth Forty Millions were;
Then have we wisely broke our Mounds,
That our Defences were,
Wisely call'd in our Neighbours Hounds,
And kill'd the desperate Hare.
But if, with all this vast Expence,
Besides a Sea of Blood
Spilt in the Church and States Defence,
Our Matters stand much as they stood:
Then have we done a World of Ill,
With endless Cost and Pains,

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A little hurtful Hare to kill,
And well deserve the Brains.