A TERRIBLE TALE.
Alas! it had of course to be!
For weeks I had not left my room,
When one fell day there came on me
An awful doom.
A burly rough, who drank and swore,
Without a word—I could not shout—
Attacked me brutally, and tore
My nails right out.
Then, dragging me out to the air—
No well-conducted conscience pricked him—
He mercilessly beat me there,
His helpless victim.
With cruel zest he beat me well,
He beat me till in parts I grew—
I shudder as the tale I tell—
All black and blue.
But what on earth he was about,
I could not guess, do what I would;
But when at length he cleaned me out
I understood.
Yet do not shed a tear, because
You've heard my story told in metre,
For I'm a Carpet, and he was
A Carpet-Beater.