THE MORALIST __ “BARB’ROUS!” cried John in humanizing mood, To Will who’d shot a blackbird in the wood; “The savage Indian pleads
necessity, “But thou, barbarian
wretch! hast
no such plea.” Hark—click the ale-house door--his wife comes in-- “Dear, help’s man John!—preserve me, what d’ye mean! “Sax helpless bairns—the deil confound your drouth! “Without ae bit to stop a
single mouth.” “—Get hame,” cried John, “Else, jade! I’ll kick your a——!” Sure such humanity is all a
farce. |