Whether the thing was green or blue.
“Sirs,” cries the umpire, “cease your pother—
The creature’s neither one nor t’other.
I caught the animal last night,
And view’d it o’er by candle light:
I mark’d it well—’twas black as jet—
You stare—but, sirs, I’ve got it yet,
And can produce it.” “Pray, sir, do:
I’ll lay my life, the thing is blue.”
“And I’ll be sworn, that when you’ve seen