And told them all how they must be
  Made into soup at last;
And how the serpent sharp can see
  When last year’s hide is cast.

And how the wary pickerel
  Enjoys the minnow sweet,
Which he doth never fail to catch,
  When it goes out to skate;

And how the beaver builds his house
  Within his winter dam;
And how the oyster lays its egg,
  And hatches out a clam;

And how the busy bumble bee,
  Doth blow his little horn,
Whene’er he goes in quest of food,
  Amid the standin’ corn: 

And how the gentle butterfly
  Sings many a merry tune
Because he’s glad he has escaped
  From out the old cocoon;

And how the rabbit flies his kite,
  When he can find a string;
And how the owl sits up all night,
  To hear the squirrel sing;

And many other curious things
  That did his hearers good,—­
Of cats that did a swimmin’ go
  And eels that chew’d the cud;

And toads that dance upon their ears
  When they a courtin’ go;
And moles that stand upon their heads,
  That they may see the show.

His sermon, as you see, was queer,
  And muchly out of joint;—­
And ’cause the preacher took no text,
  He failed to make his point.

And soon his hearers all grew tired,
  And mortified and vex’d,
Because he chose to play the fool,
  And preach without a text.

And so they left him there alone—­
  And this is what befel—­
He grew so mad it broke his heart,
  And almost burst his shell.

MORAL.

If you successfully would preach,
  Be sure a text to take,
And stick unto it like a leech
  Until your point you make.

SKYE.

THE DOG WITH THE BEAUTIFUL EYE.

Someone has written a song about “Tray,”
  But no one has courage to write about Skye;
So methinks I will rhyme, in my own rugged way,
  Of the queer little dog with the beautiful eye.

The land that he came from is said to be cold,
  And nature has dress’d him its storms to defy—­
In the ugliest coat that ever was seen—­
  But giv’n him a charming and beautiful eye.

His coat is so ugly it makes him look old
  And scrawny and poor and most ready to die;
But you’d change your opinion, I think, if you saw
  The life and the beauty that beams from his eye.

’Twere hard to conceive of an uglier thing
  Than this queer little dog from the island of Skye—­
Grotesque and uncouth, and ugly as sin—­
  Yet bless’d with a mild and a beautiful eye.

Among dogs, like the heathen Chinee among men,
  His civilization is not very high;
But then his dark ways we can always excuse
  On account of his lovely and charming bright eye.

He is sad and forlorn, yet so gentle and kind,
  You could not but love him I’m sure it you’d try—­
This dog so demure and so kindly inclined—­
  This dog with the mild and the beautiful eye.