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 | The harp and plow |  |
Then with another smile infernal
The devil took a certain Journal
And fixed it on his hook for bait;
Nor did he long for nibblers wait.
One of those things which wear a shell,
That half their time in water dwell—
The snapping kind, famed for their spite,
Was nothing loath, it seemed, to bite.
As soon as e'er it came afloat,
Behold, it wore a petticoat!
There was no sweet expression tender
By which to designate her gender,
And nothing but the coats she wore
Removed my doubtings on that score.
The devil took a certain Journal
And fixed it on his hook for bait;
Nor did he long for nibblers wait.
One of those things which wear a shell,
That half their time in water dwell—
129
Was nothing loath, it seemed, to bite.
As soon as e'er it came afloat,
Behold, it wore a petticoat!
There was no sweet expression tender
By which to designate her gender,
And nothing but the coats she wore
Removed my doubtings on that score.
| The harp and plow | |