THE PIED PIPER OF HAMELIN
But, when begins my ditty,
Almost five hundred years ago,
To see the townsfolk suffer so
From vermin, was a pity.
Rats !
They fought the dogs, and killed the cats,
And bit the babies in the cradles,
And ate the cheeses out of the vats,
And licked the soup from the cooks3" own ladles,
Split open the kegs of salted sprats, 10
Made nests inside men's Sunday hats,
And even spoiled the women's chats
By drowning their speaking
With shrieking and squeaking
In fifty different sharps and flats.
At last the people in a body
To the Town Hall came flocking :
" 'Tis clear," cried they, " our mayor's a noddy;
And as for our Corporation—shocking
To think we buy gowns lined with ermine 20
For dolts that can't or won't determine
What's best to rid us of our vermin !
You hope, because you're old and obese,
To find in the furry civic robe ease ?
Rouse up, Sirs ! Give your brains a racking
To find the remedy we're lacking,
Or, sure as fate, we'll send you packing ! "
At this the Mayor and Corporation
Quaked with a mighty consternation.
An hour they sate in council; 30
At length the Mayor broke silence :
u For a guilder I'd my ermine gown sell,
I wish I were a mile hence !
It's easy to bid one rack one's brain—
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