Page:Monthly scrap book, for July.pdf/2



his tail, a saucy prig, A magpie hopp'd upon a Pig, To pull some hair, forsooth, to line his nest; And with such ease began the hair-attack. As thinking the fee-simple of the back Was by himself, and not the Pig possest.

The Boar look'd up, as thunder black, to Mag, Who, squinting down on him, like an arch wag, Inform'd Mynheer some bristles must be torn; Then busy went to work, not nicely calling; Got a good handsome beakfull by good pulling, And flew, without a "Thank ye," to his thorn.

The Pig set up a dismal yelling; Follow'd the robber to his dwelling, Who, like a fool, had built it 'midst a bramble: In manfully, he sallied, full of might, Determin'd to obtain his right, And 'midst the bushes now began to scramble.

He drove the Magpie, tore his nest to rags, And, happy on the downfall, pour'd his brags: But ere he from the brambles came, alack! His ears and eyes were miserably torn. His bleeding hide in such a plight forlorn, He could not count ten hairs upon his back.