[[1-8]]
Under the arms of a goodly oak-tree
There was of Swine a large company.
They were making a rude repast,
Grunting as they crunch'd the mast.
Then they trotted away: for the wind blew high— 5
One acorn they left, ne more mote you spy,
Next came a Raven, who lik'd not such folly:
He belong'd, I believe, to the witch Melancholy!
M. P., An. Anth., and (with variants given below) MS. S. T. C.
[[1]]
Beneath a goodly old oak tree MS. S. T. C.: an old] a huge S. L. 1817, 1828, 1829.
[[6]]
ne more] and no more MS. S. T. C.
[[7]]
Next] But soon MS. S. T. C.
[[8]]