The seasons in our land combine
With morals and police
To make both old and young incline
To wear their clothes in peace.
15. THE PROMISE.
You no more shall barefoot crawl so
Through the dirt, poor German freedom!
Stockings (as you find you need ’em)
You shall have, and stout boots also.
As respects your head, upon it
To protect your ears from freezin’
In the chilly winter-season
You shall have a nice warm bonnet.
You shall have, too, savoury messes—
Grand the future that’s before you!
Let no Satyr, I implore you,
Lure you onward to excesses!
Do not haste on fast and faster!
Render, as becomes inferiors,
Due respect to your superiors
And the worthy burgomaster.
16. THE CHANGELING.
A child with monstrous pumpkin head,
Grey pigtail, and moustache light red,
With lanky arms and yet stupendous,
No bowels, yet with maw tremendous,—
A changeling which a Corporal
Into our cradle had let fall
On stealing from it our own baby—
This monster, falsehood’s child, (or may be
’Twas in reality the son
Of his own favourite dog alone)—
What need to say how much we spurn it?
For heaven’s sake, drown it or else burn it!