Containing a Moral for high looks, and forward folks.
Ye sportsmen bright of skill, and sight,
Who range o'er hill and dale;
Awhile give ear, and you shall hear,
A true and homely tale.
Ye friends at home, who seldom roam,
Much farther than the mill,
Be sure you're wise, and mind your eyes,
Or let your guns lie still.
It happen'd where, as you shall hear,
A building was erected,
That to complete its breadth and height,
Some workmen were collected.
One morning chill, before yon hill
Was gilded with the sun,
Or adze, or axe, or mallet had,
Their battering begun;
Two favourite ducks, had 'scaped the fox,
Well fed, and feather'd too;
In sportive play, aspiring they
Took wing, and off they flew.
With airy wheel, they quick did scale,
The lofty wall unscar'd,
The trees they topt, and down they dropt
A gun-shot from the yard.
A joiner ran, to fetch a gun
The wild ducks to secure,—
The gun he brought, with which he thought,
To make at least one fewer.
Through mist and dew, the contents flew,
A duck began to cry,
And one took flight, and left our sight,
Nor could we it espy.
This done, the man full swiftly ran,
To gather up his game,—
Both fore and aft, the people laugh'd,
To see his wild duck tame!
He set her down, she gaz'd around,
Wond'ring at such abuse,—
But for her weight, or else she might
Have pass'd for a wild goose.
In friendship sweet, the ducks soon meet,
And talk their frolic o'er,
And in their play, they seem to say,
They'll fly so high no more.
Our thoughts oft may, our skill betray,
But actions they speak louder;
If he'd been still, he'd saved his skill,
Likewise his shot and powder!