THE HEN

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WAS once a hen of wit not small
(In fact, ’twas not amazing),
And apt at laying eggs withal,
Who, when she’d done, would scream and bawl,
As if the house were blazing.
A turkey-cock, of age mature,
Felt thereat indignation;
’Twas quite improper, he was sure—
He would no more the thing endure;
So, after cogitation,
He to the lady straight repaired,
And thus his business he declared:
“Madam, pray, what’s the matter,
That always, when you’ve laid an egg,
You make so great a clatter?
I wish you’d do the thing in quiet.
Do be advised by me, and try it.”
“Advised by you!” the lady cried,
And tossed her head with proper pride;
“And what do you know, now I pray,
Of the fashion of the present day,
You creature ignorant and low?
However, if you want to know,
This is the reason why I do it:
I lay my egg, and then review it!”
Matthew Claudius.

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                           

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