Mr. Rabbit rubbed his mustache with the end of his pipe-stem. “Well, I’ll tell you the truth. I was mighty foolish in my young days. But now all I want to do is to eat breakfast, and then wait until dinner is ready, and then sit and wait until supper is put on the table.”
Mrs. Meadows winked at the children and then turned to Mr. Rabbit.
“Now,” said she, “I’ve told the story you ought to have told, for you know more about it than anybody else. It’s as little as you can do to sing the old song that you sung when you used to go frolicking.”
“Why, it’s about myself!” exclaimed Mr. Rabbit. “At my time of life it would never do.”
“Please make him sing it,” said Sweetest Susan, who was much given to getting her own way by the pretty little art of coaxing.
“Oh, he’ll sing it,” replied Mrs. Meadows confidently. “He can’t refuse.”
Mr. Rabbit shook his head, and then seemed to fall into a brown study, but suddenly, seeing that they were all waiting for the song, he cleared up his throat, and after several false starts sang this song:—
OH, THIS IS MR. RABBIT!
Oh, this is Mr. Rabbit, that runs on the grass,
So rise up, ladies, and let him pass;
He courted Miss Meadows, when her ma was away,
He crossed his legs, and said his say.
He crossed his legs, and he winked his eye,
And then he told Miss Meadows good-by.
So it’s good-by, ducky,
And it’s good-by, dear!
I’ll never come to see you
Until next year!
For this is Mr. Rabbit, that runs on the grass,
So rise up, ladies, and let him pass.