Now, shifting her spurs from her wings to her toes,
With a comb in her head, and cock-feathers for clothes,
Takes her oath she is game, and e’en fancy she crows!
“But of all the brave birds that I ever did see,”
Give me, for my money, the Ruff, and the Ree!
For because they wear epaulettes, quarrel and fight,
Each brisk little soldier behold Serjeant Kite!—
But the queerest exchange in the whole Masquerade,
Was that by the Woodcock and Bottlenose made:
Perhaps you may think ’twas of claws or of quills;—