Page 50 - Poetry-Animals
P. 50
RE - The Hubbard Dog
Old Mother Hubbard
She went to the cupboard
To get her poor dog some bread;
When she got there
The cupboard was bare,
So the quadruped ate her instead.
To this she objected—
As might be expected—
But he, with a shrug of his face,
Said, “Dear Mrs. Hubbard,
The state of your cupboard
Has long been a national disgrace!
“It’s always the same—
No poultry, no game,
Not a vestige of knuckle of pheasant,
Not a loin of roast ham,
Not a wing of cold lamb,
Not even a sausage of apricot jam—
And I find it distinctly unpleasant!
“That greedy young Horner
Sits smug in his corner,
And gorges at pie all the day;
While horrid Miss Muffet
Just lives on her tuffet,
And gobbles her curds and whey.
“But when I have bones
They’re like underdone stones!
Though you know my digestion is shady!
And as for your biscuit,
My teeth wouldn’t risk it!
Such fossils don’t tempt them, old lady!
“I have made up my mind
That whenever I find
No menu affixed to the larder,
~ 48 ~
