So down would he pounce on his prey,
And bear off a chicken for dinner.
The poor frighted matron, that heard
The cry of her youngling in dying,
Would scream at the merciless bird,
That high with his booty was flying.
But shrieks could not ease her distress,
Nor grief her lost darling recover.
She now had a chicken the less,
For acting the part of a rover.