60 TO SHARP

But chasing a goose to the
shed by the stack,
And killing him there in
that dark cul de sac,
plays of forgiveness a
terrible lack,
You remarkably trucu-

   

py Dis

lent lurcher.

I whistled and shouted till, growing
quite hoarse,

I thumped with my stick as a final
resource ;

But I cannot admit that you showed

 

much remorse,
You remarkably truculent lurcher.

Now Farmer Treherne, in a note
cold as frost,

Has sent me a bill for the bird he
has lost ;

Nine shillings and sixpence your
butchery cost,

You — remarkably truculent

lurcher.