His breast like a Pigeon’s, so burly and budge,
And his bill!—not a spit but is shorter, I vow:—
What a prize to a farmer for making his mow!”—
(Daw.) “Nay, if bills are your taste, look behind you I pray ... O!
My nest against yours that yon bird’s the Calao.
[14] ]A bill!—no, a scythe, with its grindstone annex’d
With edges and saws of all colours perplex’d.
Whate’er be its use in the business of food,
’Tis a rare apparatus for drawing of blood!”
(Parrot.) “Look at yon pert Avoset—tall as a steeple!