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Life and Adventures

of

Mr. Pig and Miss Crane.



a

NURSERY TALE.



embellished with designs.







[1]
Young Master Pig you here may see

Upon his tender Mother’s knee

No longer he with patience sucks

For See, he’s cutting both his tusks.





[2]







[3]
Behold him now in Go Cart safely tied

His pretty feet go trotting side by side

Old Granny smiles and grunting seems to say

“Ce petit prodige c’est moi qui l’ai fait.”





[4]







[5]
To Master Goat next Pig is sent

Whose learning is most excellent

But all his pains can’t make this block

Say A. B. C. or “hic, hac, hoc.”





[6]







[7]
Our Piggy next an Oxford fop

With Cravat large and Brutus Top

And when young Stag his coat has slipt on

He’ll strut away like any Skipton.





[8]







[9]
For Hunting now he takes his Cue

But other Game soon comes in View

Miss Crane he spies! he feels the fire

And falls in Love as into mire.





[10]







[11]
At Concert met with lengthen’d throat

Miss Crane screams out the dulcet note

The wondering Piggy takes his Bow

And draws in Love “Con Strepito.”





[12]







[13]
To Discord now I tune my tale

The Captain bows, Miss Crane is frail

The jealous Pig grunts loud and sore

And vows this Greyhound’s quite a bore.





[14]







[15]
A Challenge sent, the Foes are met,

On blood and murder both are set

Miss Crane looks on well pleased to see

The Captain stuck by bold Piggy.





[16]







[17]
With conquest flushed Pig struts away

To Mam and Dad while drinking tea

Old Mam looks cross but Miss looks kind

And takes the note he slips behind.





[18]







[19]
T’elope’s the word and down she goes

With fur on neck and veil on nose

While Poll her maid with light and rope-a

At once assists and saves a faux pas.





[20]







[21]
Now side by side in Dickey plac’d

To Gretna Green they speed with haste

While Poll and Stag sit Vis á Vis

And quiz the Pupil of the B:D:C:*




* Barouche Driving Club.





[22]







[23]
T’wixt cup and lip Alas! we see

Both wine and lovers spilt may be.

Against the Post, the horses run

The Reins are lost the Coachman’s flung

Pig flies aloft, Miss tumbles down

Broke is her neck, and crack’d his crown!






Moral.



Behold the crisis of our awful story

And catch this Moral from the Scene before ye

If e’er at Gretna Green a lover glances

Crane-necks remember, and beware mischances.





[24]