At a social society gathering, a quarter of a century ago, a member from a distance was called on by the gentlemen present to tell his Rabbit story. We got up in a few minutes afterward and gave it in verse as follows:—
Our friend, Mr. Romley,
He told the tale homley,
And yet full of fun,
How the Rabbits did run,
In numbers a score,
All around his door.
They were red, black and white,
Their play folks did delight;
But they got small by degrees,
For the cats did them seise—
All but one big black Rabbit,
He got into the habit
Under ground he would dive—
He long time did survive,
’Till owner, wanting fat pot,
He this great beast then shot.
When police heard the gun,
Full quickly he did run,
In a furious rage;
But his wrath did as‑uage
When he got a quarter
Of the last martyr.