Begin to look about themselves,
Dreading to be put on their shelves.
Who raised a doubt, in costume wild,
When in the final tableau piled,
Which was the sheaf, and which the child.
They heard the loud approving cheers,
From stalls, and pit, and all the tiers;
For little wheatsheaves have long ears.
And knew, whilst they pursued that track,
Nor showed of energy a lack,