Whilst secretly he’d grieve within
O’er spelling true, ah! not his own!
And think the pig, their rival grown,
Might shake their intellectual throne;
And force his convent, fond of rule,
Once more to put themselves to school!
The bear, first favourite no more,
Surly, as though his ears were sore,
The fickle public to regain,
And give the “pas” to dance again,