Now hurried steps without are heard,
  And earnest voices blend;
“I’m in a vice,” the deacon groans—­
  “When will this torture end?”

Young Peter, being first within,
  For he had run ahead,
Loudly exclaims, “Another bull
  Lies in the parlor, dead!”

They enter all, with hands upraised
  And faces filled with wonder—­
There stood confessed the deacon’s case,
  And all were struck with thunder.

The tale flew quickly round, and woke
  Much pity and more laughter;
But not a word the deacon spoke
  Of his two bulls thereafter.

Listen! listen to my song,
  There is meaning in it;
You may know it sha’nt be long—­
  Only half a minute.

Have you ever read the tale—­
  Have you heard the story—­
How two bulls together fought
  On the field of glory?

And how a famous hero
  Thought it was so cunning,
How he became a master
  Of the art of running?

And how he was so frightened,
  In getting up the stairs;
And how he heard the breaking
  Of all his china-wares?

And how his heart was swelling
  Up like a pot of yeast;
And how he took a rifle,
  And fired it at the beast?

And how the parish preacher
  Had heard that he was sick,
And losing not a moment,
  Did come to see him quick?

And how the rumor flourished,
  ’Mongst people young and old,
And how they sighed, and how they laughed
  To hear the story told?

If you have read, remember
  The moral of this book—­
Whoever takes the devil’s bait,
  Is sure to feel the hook.