(Jefferys Taylor)

A DOG growing thinner, for want of a dinner,
Once purloin’d him a joint from a tray;
“How happy I am, with this shoulder of lamb!”
Thought the cur as he trotted away.

But the way that he took, lay just over a brook,
Which he found it was needful to cross;
So, without more ado, he plunged in to go through,
Not dreaming of danger or loss.

But what should appear, in this rivulet clear,
As he thought upon coolest reflection,
But a cur like himself, who with ill-gotten pelf,
Had run off in that very direction.

Thought the dog, à propos! but that instant let go
(As he snatch’d at this same water-spaniel)
The piece he possess’d:—so with hunger distress’d
He slowly walk’d home to his kennel.