Farmer's Wife And Raven.

        "Why are those tears? Why droops your head?
        Say is your swain or husband dead?"

        The farmer's wife said: "You know well
        The salt was spilt, - to me it fell;
        And then to add loss unto loss,
        The knife and fork were laid across.
        On Friday evening, 'tis too true,
        Bounce in my lap a coffin flew.
        Some dire misfortune it portends:
        I tremble for my absent friends."

        "Dame," said the neighbour, "tremble not:
        Be all these prodigies forgot;
        The while, at least, you eat your dinner
        Bid the foul fiend avaunt - the sinner!
        And soon as Betty clears the table
        For a dessert, I'll read a fable.

        "Betwixt her panniers rocked, on Dobbin
        A matron rode to market bobbing,
        Indulging in a trancelike dream
        Of money for her eggs and cream;
        When direful clamour from her broke:
        'A raven on the left-hand oak!
        His horrid croak bodes me some ill.'
        Here Dobbin stumbled; 'twas down-hill,
        And somehow he with failing legs
        Fell, and down fell the cream and eggs.
        She, sprawling, said, 'You rascal craven!
        You - nasty - filthy - dirty - raven!'
        'Goody,' said raven, 'spare your clamour,
        There nothing here was done by glamour;
        Get up again and wipe your gown,
        It was not I who threw you down;
        For had you laid your market ware
        On Dun - the old sure-footed mare -
        Though all the ravens in the Hundred
        Had croaked till all the Hundred wondered,
        Sure-footed Dun had kept her legs,
        And you, good woman, saved your eggs.'"