ARTHUR of those, has no doubt, borne the brunt;
Now in a semi-relief he rejoices
Pigs are fit only for styes and nose-ringing.
Never let Irish ones run loose and root,
Rather wish ARTHUR were less sweet on flinging
Pearls before pigs; as well feed 'em on fruit.
Hrumph! There. I thought so! Hrumph! hrumph! What a pest!
Sure that big brute has his eye on my ladder.
Has ARTHUR loosed him? He thinks he knows best,
But a nasty spill now!—nothing well could be sadder