University of Virginia Library

THE THRESHER AND THE RAT.

'T was when the bridge the frost had made,
Had robbed the Charon of his trade;
When slipping sleighs and jingling bells
Supplied the place of rattling wheels;—
When side-long looked the southing sun,
And labor out-of-door was done,
A farmer to his barn did go
To thresh, as he was wont to do.
He was as strong a man as ever
Beneath the bowlders thrust a lever;
As brave a man as aught of those
Who faced on Bunker-Hill their foes;
As honest as the man who sweat
For forty years to pay a debt;
A patriot, and no truer one
Tecumseh was, or Washington;—
He was, to make description short,
A yankee of the goodly sort.
The wheaten sheaves he spread and pounded;
The echoes to his flail resounded;
The ox looked wise at what he saw,
And tasted daintily the straw;
The fowls came craking round the door
For seeds that flew beyond the floor;
And loudly in the thresher's ear
Sang old time-keeping Chanticleer.
But moodily the thresher wrought,
And thinking, (for he must have thought,)
While he the bearded grain was threshing,
Of men who needed such a dressing.
The seventh shock he'd just begun—
(He chalked the number, one by one,)—
But scarce had he a dozen thumped,
When forth a rat, confounded, jumped!
THRESHER.

RAT.
I pray thee, goodman, stop thy grieving
That I, poor body, get a living;
And, rather pity, when I tell ye
You've pounded me almost to jelly.

THRESHER.
High words, indeed, for rats to speak!
I thought at most they could but squeak.
You must be leader of the throng
That 's troubled me so much and long.
By night I hear you, on my bed,
Chase one another overhead,
And rattle up and down the wall
Some plunder to your dens to haul;
And in my barns the live-long day,
You waste my precious grain away.

RAT.
You 've little charity, I see,
For such a needy wretch as me.
I taste your grain a little, true;
'T is quite as good for me as you;
And it's the fashion now-days, neighbor,
To get a living without labor.

THRESHER.
You have more brass, conceited knave,
In your old phiz, than thieves should have;
Think you I'll harvest corn and wheat
For miserable rats to eat?
Look at the ant, that toils and strives,
And on her own exertion lives;
Look at the bees, wee, busy things,
That make a food that 's fit for kings;
Look at your cousin in the bushes,
He is content with grass and rushes;
The prowling fox, that now and then
Comes to my yard and steals a hen,
Would say you were of rogues the chief;
The skunk would spurn you for a thief.

RAT.
Look here! if preaching is your object,
I'll show you more important subject:
Now did it never strike your mind
That there are rats among mankind?
The rat of human-kind, you see,
In form is different from me;
He stands six feet, or less, or more;
Walks on two feet, instead of four;
Wears a fine coat with pendent tail,
With pockets in it,—where I fail;
Has hands whose single grasp can seize
More than my twelve-month's bread and cheese;
And, to crown all, his Maker kind
Gives him a shrewd, discerning mind,
All his base life, on earth to find
Bye-paths through which to seek his leaven,
And dream of rat-holes, too, in heaven.
Now, sir, your eyes are oped, I wis;
‘Look on this picture, and on this;’
And, on the whole, you must opine
His breed is worse, by far, than mine.

THRESHER.
All true, old rat! thou speakest sense!
Fill once thy maw, and get thee hence;
For since thy wit has cooled my choler,
I would not harm thee for a dollar.

RAT.