If you’ll wait but a little there is comfort in store.
In the midst of their wailing a scraping they hear,
And lo! in their midst doth their sire appear.
“Cheer up, my dear wife, and ye children small,
For see, I have eaten my way through the wall!”
MORAL.
Good people, ’tis vain for you to stop up the holes,
For we roaches have instinct, if we have not got souls.
Here we’ve long been at home, and here we’ll remain,
And your phosphorus,[2] your elder,[2] and wafers,[2] are vain.