  “OH, I never would be a guinea-pig, never! They have so little brains!”— The guinea-pig sprang, and—wasn’t it clever?— He hid in the raspberry canes. They scratched their fingers, they taxed their wits, To get the guinea-pig out; They nearly laughed themselves to fits To see him run about. The old and the young, the patient, the bold, Were in that companie; But the guinea-pig baffled the young and the old, And merrily scampered he. You thought you had him, but oh, mistake! You grappled a lump of mould— The guinea-pig stuck to the raspberry brake As hath before been told. “Oh, make me into a guinea-pig, make, And never mind what I said; For then I can hide in the raspberry brake, When it’s time to go to bed.” |
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