1

A Cock was working very hard
Upon a Dunghill in the Yard,
The morn was sharp, his hunger keen,
He scratch'd & scratch'd & scratch'd again;
At length a precious Stone he found,
(T'was worth at least a hundred pound)
Thou art a mere glittering Toy, says he,
Not of the smallest use to me,
To man thy value may be great,
I had rather find a grain of Wheat!

2

Some fine ripe Grapes were hanging high,
A hungry Fox was passing by,
He lick'd his lips & long'd to eat 'em,
So Jump'd & Jump'd but could not get 'em;
Convinced it was not in his power,
I'm sure, said he, those Grapes are sour.

3

A country man, who, I am told
Is nearly ninety-nine years old,
One morn, the weather being good,
Crept to the Copse to pick up wood,
And, having got his little load,
Came slowly back along the road;
But e'er he half the way had got
The sun shone bright, the day grew hot,
Quite tired & almost out of breath,
He sat him down & call'd for Death:
Death came, & ask'd him what he'd have,
" Sir, I would your assistance crave,
I flung my Faggot down thro' pain,
Pray help me get it up again".