She’s the best, very best, of all Mothers, that’s flat.
For what other Mamma keeps a tap of good blood
Running out at her breast for her family’s good?—
But among all the gluttons that peck’d at the feast,
The Hern and the Cormorant lik’d themselves least;
For both, though with ev’ry fair right to be burst,—
Poor things!—were as lanky at last as at first!
Yet the Parrot seem’d most incommoded at supper,
So much was her under lip cramp’d by the upper.
The Ostrich was long but a mere stander-by,