Fytte VIII. the Ghost
Forbidden fruit is sweet they say;
And so its gathered every day;
And should this fruit be sweet before,
Forbid it, and ’tis ten times more.
Eugene oft coveted the pot
Of honey that John Dull had got
Placed on the shelf above his head,
For safety, when he went to bed;
John slept, John snored; then ope’d his eyes
And stared about him with surprise.
“What’s this I see come crawling on?”
“Sure, ’tis a strange phenomenon.”
A winged beast, with tail, and claws
On his four feet, which end in paws.
With stealthy pace on on it crawled,
John turned upon his face, and bawled.
John’s hair as this strange beast drew near
His night cap raised for very fear.
On its hind legs itself it reared,
As it its squalling master neared,
Nearer still nearer—till he got
The much desired honey pot.
Turns tail and runs; whilst Johnnie sits
Bolt up, divested of his wits.
A pearly drop on every hair
Hangs pendant, not from heat, but fear.
Eugene his garret sought, and there
Ate honey, like his friend the bear,
The pot he emptied mighty soon,
Using his paws instead of spoon.