Halt! Not a step farther! Don't move for your life!
You're a very nice squirrel, I haven't a doubt
(Although you've forgotten, I see, to put on
Your kilt and your jacket before you came out),
But where you now are you must stop for an hour
Or two, and quite silent meanwhile you must keep,
For a weary long way we have travelled to-day,
And my dear little master lies there fast asleep.
Of course _you_ don't know--you've grown up in the woods,
With no one to teach you--how fine 'tis to be
Great artists as we are! You've heard but the birds,
And seen only squirrels jump round in a tree.
My master the sweetest of music can make
(Sh! you rustled a leaf--he half-opened his eyes),
And a gun I can handle, a drum I can beat,
And I dance like a fairy--I tell you no lies.
My dear little master! full oft he has shared,
Bite for bite, with me, squirrel, his very last crust,
And he's patiently carried me many a mile,
And that now _I_ guard _him_ I am sure is but just.
Curl your tail up still tighter, and don't let it fall
Lest a noise it should make--it's remarkably big--
And, if you are good, by-and-by we may all
Have a right merry tune and a right merry jig.