He'd grown fat
And lusty, like a well-fed cat.
Thereat the Saint was pleased. Quoth he,
"Give me a crust for charity."
"A crust, thou say'st? Hut, tut! How now?
Wouldst come a-begging here? I trow,
Thou lazy rascal, thou couldst find
Enough of work hadst thou a mind!
'Tis thine own fault if thou art poor.
Begone, sir!" _Bang!_--he shut the door.
Saint Swithin slowly scratched his head.
"Well, I _am_--humph!--just so," he said.
"How very different the fact is
'Twixt the profession and the practice!"
HP
[Illustration: A Tale of a Tub. This full page illustrated poem shows
the man in the tub on the sea, dreaming of the roasted pig.]
A TALE OF A TUB
1
You may bring to mind I've sung you a song,
Of a man of Haarlem town.
I'll sing of another,--'t will not take long--,
Of equally great renown.
2
"I've read," said he, "there's a land afar,
O'er the boundless rolling sea,
Where fat little pigs ready roasted are:
Now, that is the land for me.
3
Where tarts may be plucked from the wild tart tree,
And puddings like pumpkins grow,
Where candies, like pebbles, lie by the sea,--
Now, thither I'll straightway go."
4
Now, what do you think I've heard it said
Was his boat, his oar, his sail?
A tub, a spoon, and a handkerchief red,
For to breast both calm and gale.
5
So he sailed away, for a livelong day;
And the sun was warm and mild,
And the small waves laughed as they seemed to play,
And the sea-gulls clamored wild.
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