A Fowler caught a Partridge; but
The Partridge begged him not to cut
His head asunder, screaming: " Pray,
Master, let me live my day! —
And for you I will entice
Many Partridges. " " Thou thrice.
Accursed creature, " said the man;
" Sizzle thou in baking pan! —
I've less scruple now, pardee,
In vigorously slaughtering thee, —
Who think'st to save thy neck at cost
Of thine own kin betrayed and lost. "

MORAL

O Bird, most base and cowardly,
I wish I'd had a Hack at thee.