WHEN the worthy Widow Tibbets | |
| (Whom the cut below exhibits) | |
| Had recovered, on the morrow, | |
| From the dreadful shock of sorrow, | |
| She (as soon as grief would let her | 5 |
| Think) began to think ’t were better | |
| Just to take the dead, the dear ones | |
| (Who in life were walking here once), | |
| And in a still noonday hour | |
| Them, well roasted, to devour. | 10 |
| True, it did seem almost wicked, | |
| When they lay so bare and naked, | |
| Picked, and singed before the blaze,— | |
| They that once in happier days, | |
| In the yard or garden ground, | 15 |
| All day long went scratching round. | |
| Ah! Frau Tibbets wept anew, | |
| And poor Spitz was with her, too. | |
| Max and Maurice smelt the savor. | |
| “Climb the roof!” cried each young shaver. | 20 |
| Through the chimney now, with pleasure, | |
| They behold the tempting treasure, | |
| Headless, in the pan there, lying, | |
| Hissing, browning, steaming, frying. | |
| At that moment down the cellar | 25 |
| (Dreaming not what soon befell her) | |
| Widow Tibbets went for sour | |
| Krout, which she would oft devour | |
| With exceeding great desire | |
| (Warmed a little at the fire). | 30 |
| Up there on the roof, meanwhile, | |
| They are doing things in style. | |
| Max already with forethought | |
| A long fishing-line has brought. | |
| Schnupdiwup! there goes, O Jeminy! | 35 |
| One hen dangling up the chimney. | |
| Schnupdiwup! a second bird! | |
| Schnupdiwup! up comes the third! | |
| Presto! number four they haul! | |
| Schnupdiwup! we have them all!— | 40 |
| Spitz looks on, we must allow, | |
| But he barks: Row-wow! Row-wow! | |
| But the rogues are down instanter | |
| From the roof, and off they canter.— | |
| Ha! I guess there ’ll be a humming; | 45 |
| Here ’s the Widow Tibbets coming! | |
| Rooted stood she to the spot, | |
| When the pan her vision caught. | |
| Gone was every blessèd bird! | |
| “Horrid Spitz!” was her first word. | 50 |
| “O you Spitz, you monster, you! | |
| Let me beat him black and blue!” | |
| And the heavy ladle, thwack! | |
| Comes down on poor Spitz’s back! | |
| Loud he yells with agony, | 55 |
| For he feels his conscience free. | |
| Max and Maurice, dinner over, | |
| In a hedge, snored under cover; | |
| And of that great hen-feast now | |
| Each has but a leg to show. | 60 |
| |
| This was now the second trick, | |
| But the third will follow quick. | |
| |
