Was one of reposeful ease;
He strutted about o’er the crags and cliffs
In a most ungainly fashion,
And the fowls that flew he was prone to view
With a kind of cold compassion.
“But it chanced one night that a hungry fox
Got a look at the awkward auk,
Who was strolling about on the spray-washed rocks
With his usual clumsy walk;
He made a dash for the startled bird,