Sir Horn-Book hight he; at the very first glance
Mat saw he was Lord o’er the Field of Romance.
Then little Red Riding-Hood’s wolf howled amain,
Fear shook all his limbs, and unsettled his brain;
But the horrors he suffer’d can ne’er be surpass’d,
When little Cock-Robin’s sad funeral pass’d.
As Blue-Beard for blood loudly howl’d o’er his wife,
And sister Anne pleaded so well for her life,
Mat’s fav’rite spectre he saw dance in air,
And he gave up his spirit a prey to despair.