"I should say we were," groaned the Mayor.
"Would you like to get rid of them? I can do it for you."
"You can?" cried the Mayor. "How? Who are you?"
"Men call me the Pied Piper," said the man, "and I know a way to draw after me everything that walks, or flies, or swims. What will you give me if I rid your town of rats?"
"Anything, anything," said the Mayor. "I don't believe you can do it, but if you can, I'll give you a thousand guineas."
"All right," said the Piper, "it is a bargain."
And then he went to the door and stepped out into the street and stood, and put the long flute-like thing to his lips, and began to play a little tune. A strange, high, little tune. And before
three shrill notes the pipe uttered,
You heard as if an army muttered;
And the muttering grew to a grumbling;
And the grumbling grew to a mighty rumbling;
And out of the houses the rats came tumbling!
Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats,
Brown rats, black rats, gray rats, tawny rats,
Grave old plodders, gay young friskers,
Fathers, mothers, uncles, cousins,
Cocking tails and pricking whiskers,
Families by tens and dozens,
Brothers, sisters, husbands, wives--
Followed the Piper for their lives!
"Great rats, small rats, lean rats, brawny rats ... followed the Piper for their lives."