Skittered up that larder ’fore she had a chance
to teeter,
Quicker’n any pussy cat—lighter’n a mos-
keeter.
Soon’s he clambered to the top, grabbed the
upper rung,
Ketched hisself with t’other hand, and there the
critter hung.
Gaffled up his britches’ slack and took a resky
charnce