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Poem by Eugene Field

Fitte the Fourth

Then from that tub and from that room
  He gat with vast ado;
At every hop he gave a shake,
  Andhow the water flew!

He paddled down the winding stairs
  And to the parlor hied,
Dispensing pools of foamy suds
  And slop on every side.

Upon the carpet then he rolled
  And brushed against the wall,
And, horror! whisked his lathery sides
  On overcoat and shawl.

Attracted by the dreadful din,
  His mistress came below
Who, who can speak her wonderment
  Who, who can paint her woe!

Great smears of soap were here and there
  Her startled vision met
With blobs of lather everywhere,
  And everything was wet!

Then Mrs. Taylor gave a shriek
  Like one about to die:
"Get outget out, and don't you dare
  Come in till you are dry!"

With that she opened wide the door
  And waved the critter through;
Out in the circumambient air
  With grateful yelps he flew.

Eugene Field

Eugene Field's other poems:
  1. Old Spanish Song
  2. Pan Liveth
  3. In Praise of Contentment
  4. Fitte the First
  5. The Singing in God's Acre

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