Page:Carroll - Phantasmagoria and other poems (1869).djvu/101

Rh I need not tell of soup and fish In solemn silence swallowed, The sobs, that ushered in each dish And its departure followed, Nor yet my suicidal wish To be the cheese I hollowed.

Some desperate attempts were made To start a conversation; "Madam," the lively Jones essayed, "Which kind of recreation, Hunting or fishing, have you made Your special occupation?"

Her lips curved downwards instantly, As if of india-rubber, "Hounds in full cry I like," said she, (Oh how I longed to snub her!) "Of fish, a whale 's the one for me, It is so full of blubber!"