The Reciter/The pig in a pock
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THE PIG IN A POCK.
A farmer's lease contain'd a flaw,
To mend it he appeal'd to law,
Dear-bought experience told him plain
That law without a fee was vain;
And that, to clear his counsel's tone, he
Must bribe him with meat or money.
One morn he calls his clown-in-chief,
"Here, take this pig to Lawyer Brief."
The clown (unlike his wife, they say,)
Could both be silent and obey:
The pig secured within a sack,
At ease hang dangling from his back;
This loaded, straight to town he went,
With many an awkward compliment.
A half-way house convenient stood,
Where host was kind, and ale was good:
In steps the clown, and calls to Cecil---
"A quart of stout, to whit my whistle!"
Eased of his load he takes a chair,
And quaffs oblivion to all care.
Three artful wags accost the clown,
And ask his errand up to town.
With potent ale his heart grown warm,
Which, drunk or sober, meant no harm;
He told them plainly whence he came,---
His master and the lawyer's name;
And, ere the circling mug was drain'd,
Show'd what the prostrate sack contain'd.
Whilst two the witless clown amuse,
With merry tales and mournful news,
A third removes the sack unseen,
And soon sets free the guest within;
But lest the clown the trick should trace,
A well fed cur supplies the place.
The point clear'd up of what's to pay,
Our clown in peace pursued his way:
Arrived, he makes his awkward bow,
With many a wherefore and as how.
"Heaven bliss your honour many a year!
Look what a pig I've brought you here."
The sack untied without demur,
Forwith out gently crept the cur.
Both stood aghast with eager eyes,
And both, no doubt, look'd wondrous wise---
The clown, who saw the lawyer foam,
Swore 'twas a pig when brought from home;
And wond'ring at the queer disaster,
In haste return'd to tell his master.
Well pleased to see him take the bait,
The wags his quick return await;
What peals of noisy mirth prevail,
To hear him tell the mystic tale!---
From them to Cecil he repairs,
To her the strange event declares:
Meantime the wags, to end the joke,
Replace the pig within its pock.
The rustic soon resumes his load,
And, whistling, plods along the road.
The impatient farmer hails the clown,
And asks, "What news from London town
The pig was liked; they made you drink?"
"Nay, master! master! what d'ye think?
The pig (or I am a stupid log,)
Is changed into a puppy dog;"
"A dog!"-"Nay since my word you doubt;
See here; I'll fairly turn him out."
No sooner was the sack untied,
Than a loud grunt his word belied:
"Death!" cries the farmer, "tell me whence
Proceeds this daring insolence?
Make haste, you blunderer, take it back,
Or from my service you shall pack!"
The clown in patient soul and blood,
A while in silent wonder stood;
Then briefly cried, with phiz demure,---
"Yon lawyer is a witch, for sure!
How hoarse his voice! his face how grim!
What's pig with us is dog with him:---
O master save me from derision,
For as I live I've seen a vision!"