A dainty dog had chanced to note
The breakfast of a greedy goat,--
Half-rotten grass, a shocking pile.
"Fie!" said the dog; "what wretched style!
Good taste demands, you clownish beast,
A dish to eat from, at the least.
And as for food, that garbage foul
Would even make a camel scowl,
Would make a very buzzard groan,
Would —" Here the goat laid bare a hone,
Which when our dainty dog had spied,
"Your pardon, friend!" the critic cried;
"I'm quite near-sighted, neighbor mine.
I see your meal is fair and fine.
Invite me, pray, with you to dine!"