You, Polly, honest Jack (an Irish House-dog), and Myself!"
(Here he pulled poor Poll's tail-feathers hard, and capered like an elf.)
Poll held on to his perch, he'd much tenacity of claw,
But performed, involuntarily a sort of sharp see-saw,
And he snorted and looked down
With a very beaky frown,
And his round orb grew as red as any carrot.
"'We Three'? your Twelfth-Night tag
Is mere thrasonic brag.
Tschutt! You'll make my tail a rag!