9
To
think
we
buy
gowns
lined
with
ermine
For
dolts
that
can’t
or
won’t
determine
What’s
best
to
rid
us
of
our
vermin!
You
hope,
because
you’re
old
and
obese,
To
find
in
the
furry
civic
robe
ease?
Rouse
up,
sirs!
Give
your
brains
a
racking
To
find
the
remedy
we’re
lacking,
Or,
sure
as
fate,
we’ll
send
you
packing!”
At
this
the
Mayor
and
Corporation
Quaked
with
a
mighty
consternation.
IV.
An
hour
they
sate
in
council,
At
length
the
Mayor
broke
silence:
“For
a
guilder
I’d
my
ermine
gown
sell;
I
wish
I
were
a
mile
hence!
It’s
easy
to
bid
one
rack
one’s
brain—
I’m
sure
my
poor
head
aches
again,
I’ve
scratched
it
so,
and
all
in
vain
Oh
for
a
trap,
a
trap,
a
trap!”
Just
as
he
said
this,
what
should
hap
At
the
chamber
door
but
a
gentle
tap?
“Bless
us,”
cried
the
Mayor,
“what’s
that?”
(With
the
Corporation
as
he
sat,
Looking
little
though
wondrous
fat;
Nor
brighter
was
his
eye,
nor
moister
Than
a
too-long-opened
oyster,
Save
when
at
noon
his
paunch
grew
mutinous
For
a
plate
of
turtle
green
and
glutinous)
“Only
a
scraping
of
shoes
on
the
mat?
Anything
like
the
sound
of
a
rat
Makes
my
heart
go
pit-a-pat!”