 | Poetry of the Farm and Rural Life |  |
The Doctor, still tremendous “blue,”
Had no doubt that the tale was true;
He now knew why, when he sent grain,
So little flour came back again;
He wouldn't say the miller stole it,—
The rat had made him double toll it.
'Twas a strange rat, continued he,—
Strange fact in nat'ral history;
But he a yellow dog once had
That cast his ratship in the shade.
In his young days he played the flute;
The music charm'd the knowing brute,
Who'd sit for hours and hear him do it,
And whine a sort of second to it.
Had no doubt that the tale was true;
He now knew why, when he sent grain,
So little flour came back again;
He wouldn't say the miller stole it,—
The rat had made him double toll it.
'Twas a strange rat, continued he,—
Strange fact in nat'ral history;
But he a yellow dog once had
That cast his ratship in the shade.
In his young days he played the flute;
The music charm'd the knowing brute,
Who'd sit for hours and hear him do it,
And whine a sort of second to it.
| Poetry of the Farm and Rural Life | |