Seven little tigers they sat them in a row,
Their seven little dinners for to eat;
And each of the troop had a little plate of soup,
The effect of which was singularly neat.
They were feeling rather cross, for they hadn't any sauce
To eat with their pudding or their pie;
So they rumpled up their hair, in a spasm of despair,
And vowed that the aged cook should die.
Then they called the aged cook, and a frying-pan they took,
To fry him very nicely for their supper;
He was ninety-six years old, on authority I'm told,
And his name was Peter Sparrow-piper Tupper.
"Mr. Sparrow-piper Tup, we intend on you to sup!"
Said the eldest little tiger very sweetly;
But this naughty aged cook, just remarking, "Only look!"
Chopped the little tiger's head off very neatly.
Then he said unto the rest, "It has always been confessed
That a tiger's better eating than a man;
So I'll fry him for you now, and you all will find, I trow,
That to eat him will be much the better plan."
So they tried it in a trice, and found that it was nice,
And with rapture they embraced one another;
And they said, "By hook or crook, we must keep this aged cook;
So we'll ask him to become our elder brother."
[_Which they accordingly did._]