And their true lord, the Babe.
"Beware the Waggawock, my son,
The eyelid twitch, the knees' incline,
Beware the Baignet network, spun
For gallant Ballantine."
He took his ton-weight brief in hand,
Long time the hidden clue he sought,
Then rested he by the Hawkins tree,
And sat awhile in thought.
And as in toughish thought he rocks,