Oh, those Malagasy muttons! They are homicidal beasts, Very dangerous, and desperate, and spiteful. Yet, taken young, they furnish quite the toothsomest of feasts, And my hunger for a meal is getting frightful. My "attitude towards them" is--oh! well, the usual one Of the Wolf toward the Lamb the wide world over; The "attitude" of the imprisoned Bear toward the Bun, And I'm _free_--as free as song's romantic Rover! Yes, I'm free, though not "afloat." There's a feeling in my throat That my foes might call omnivorous voracity, But it is a noble hunger; on nobility I doat; And black baa-lambs are so given to--pugnacity. So full of ill-will, too, in all circumstances! Yes, They turn nasty at the thought of being eaten up! But omelettes still need eggs, as they ever will, I guess, And the eggs have to be broken and well beaten up! You can't tie lambs to treaties, that's the worst of the false things, Though _you_ supply the treaty and the tether. They bolt from my Protectorate as though the brutes had wings, And they will _not_ trust a Wolf as a bell-wether! It is very, very vexing! In such quiet times as these, When "the elements of peace" are fairly uppermost, They ought to be so willing to do _anything_ to please. (_Gn-a-r-r!_ Do I want "redress," now, or my supper most?) All the world is doing homage to that peaceful creature, Bruin, Who is almost as unmilitant as _I_ am; Yet these Malagasy muttons would the _entente_ simply ruin. They're as fierce as the ferocious sheep of Siam. At the lovely "words of concord and of peace" they simply--_bleat_, A sound that fills the Dove--and me--with terror! They think, because he's gentle, that the Wolf they'll kill and eat. The Wolf must try to show them they're in error. A "policy of division and of discord" must inspire The world with horror and with apprehension. Of "watching o'er my interests and my honour," I shan't tire, And I think there's little fear of--intervention. All the other brutes are busy at their several little games, Inspired by various--peaceful--emulations! These rivalries--of peace--will not set the world in flames, Or "compromise" relations between nations. So I think while no one's looking, I may drop down on these sheep With moral and magnanimous severity. Ah! there's a black-faced baa-lamb! On her track I'll slowly creep, I can go with boldness, though "without temerity." A peaceful time like this is my time to make a pounce; The dogs are all asleep, there's no one looking. Ah! there's nothing like a blend of magnanimity and bounce. _Yum-yum!_ 'Tis a choice morsel, scarce needs cooking; She comes this way, amusingly unmindful of her fate. Aha! my Hova lambkin, I shall have you, I shall eat you up! There's no one will object, until too late, There's no one near will trouble take to save you! [_Prowls on._