And Mrs. Opossum, good dame, holds her breath,
Safely pockets her young, and as usual, feigns death;
Till the storm has blown over they lie in their sack,
Whilst the seal scrambles home with her cub pic-a-back.
Sir Hans Armadillo, coil’d up in a ball,
From the edge of a precipice lets himself fall;
Being arm’d “cap-à-pie,” he rolls safely away,
And lives, without doubt, in his hole to this day.
The rein-deer most kindly was offer’d to share
In her cold wintry drive by the white polar bear;