Snake And Its Young.

        There is a peculiar snake,
            You might almost call it squatter,
        It loves to dive in pond or lake,
            At home on either land or water.

        But it excited my good dog
            To see small snakes bask in the sun,
        Enjoying themselves on a big log,
            Near into where the water run.

        But their mother she was watching
            Her numerous brood on the log,
        She thought to them was danger hatching,
            When she beheld myself and dog.

        For she gave a hissing sound,
            All her offspring to awake,
        She ope'd her mouth and at a bound,
            Down her throat did rush each snake.

        I scarcely my own eyes could trust,
            To see those small snakes disappear,
        I really thought that she would burst,
            For the sake of her offspring dear.

        But I soon hid among the brakes,
            To view the young ones leave their prison,
        Will you believe this tale of snakes,
            If I did count right just four dozen.

James McIntyre

James McIntyre was a Canadian poet, most notable for his poetry concerning cheese, cheese-making, dairying, and dairy products. Often referred to as 'The Cheese Poet,' McIntyre's work is celebrated for its earnestness and unintentional humor, making him both a beloved and an infamous figure in literary circles. He emigrated from Scotland to Canada in 1851 and settled in Ingersoll, Ontario, where he became a successful businessman and community leader.

James McIntyre

Her Lover's Step.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Four Acre Farm.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Lines On Thamesford.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

Lines Read At A Dairymen's Supper.

James McIntyre, Simple Poetry

English

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The tale is antient, and is sweet,
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Far away in the twilight time
Of every people, in every clime,
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And its time of fable the tale comes down
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Thou who makest the tale thy mirth,
Consider that strip of Christian earth
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Old Snake-Doctor

I.

Once I found an ant-lion's hole
And an ant-lion in it: nippers
Like a pair of rusty clippers.
And I saw a red ant roll
In its pit, and, quick as Ned,
This old ant-lion fanged its head,
Held it till the ant was dead.

II.

And I told my father: he
Smiled and said, "He beats the dickens,
With his pinchers; even chickens
Have n't his voracity.
Think now what he would have done
Had you been an ant, my son,
Fallen in that pit like one.

III.

"Daniel in the lion's den!
Guess you'd come home good and gory.
But now here's another story:
You should see these ant-lions when
They have wings; and, blue and green,
Ponds and pools they fly between:
Prettiest things I've ever seen.

IV.

"Lo...

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The Serpents.

Now blest be Providence divine,
    Surpassing human skill!
That often takes from things malign,
    The privilege of ill.

Good folks! who love a simple strain.
    That seems like fancy's sound;
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As strange a tale, as history knows,
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An honest Greek relates in prose,
    This wonder of old time.

The antients gloried to describe,
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For of the Psylli's signal tribe,
    'Twas their delight to hear.

The Psylli were an Afric clan,
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Snake

A snake came to my water-trough
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I came down the steps with my pitcher
And must wait, must stand and wait, for there he was at the trough before me.

He reached down from a fissure in the earth-wall in the gloom
And trailed his yellow-brown slackness soft-bellied down, over the edge of the stone trough
And rested his throat upon the stone bottom,
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He sipped with his straight mouth,
Softly drank through his straight gums, into his slack long body,
Silently.

Someone was before me at my water-trough,
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He lifted his he...

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