like to grow in a tree-top. I'd see farther than my nose, I can tell you." So
With a run and a squeal
Away went the pig with an odd little reel
And the roly-poly pup followed after.
Well, on the way they met a donkey kicking his heels to get rid of the pack on his back. And they called out to him, "O kicking, kicking donkey, what do you think we heard this very morning?"
"What?" said the kicking, kicking donkey, as he kicked the pack from his back.
"A long time ago when pigs had wings
And pups grew in the tree-tops,
In that good time donkeys brayed in rhyme
And fiddles danced the barn hops."
"That's very strange," said the donkey; "can it be true? We'll ask the old witch owl about it. I'd like to bray in rhyme. I'd bring down the house, I can tell you." So
With a run and a squeal
Away went the pig with an odd little reel,
And the roly-poly pup and the kicking, kicking donkey followed after.
Halfway to the barn they met a fiddle lying near a bench. He was in such a bad temper that he had broken the string that makes the sweetest music.
