Stirred up by its knocks,
Like a jack-in-the-box
He jumped from his damp, dripping prison—and ran;
And made a frog-leap o'er the stove and a chair,
With some crisp Bible words not intended as prayer.
All over the kitchen he rampaged and tore,
And ran against everything there but the door;
Tipped over old 'Liakim flat on his back,
And left a long trail of rich cream on his track.
"Ou! ou! 'tis a ghost!" quavered 'Liakim's wife;