And how with leaves each little dead breast
Was covered by a Robin Redbreast!
But when they found them on the ground,
Although their life had ceased,
Quite near to Paul there lay a small
White paper, neatly creased.
“Because of lack of any merit,
B. Hyde,” it ran, “we disinherit!”
The Moral: If you deeply long
To punish one who’s done you wrong,