I

The Giant sat on a rock up high, With the wind in his shaggy hair; And he said, “I have drained the dairies dry, And stripped the orchards bare;

“I have eaten the sheep, with the wool on their backs,” (A nasty giant was he,) “The eggs and the shells, the honey, the wax, The fowls, and the cock-turkéy;

“And now I think I could eat a score Of babies so plump and small; And if, after that, I should want any more, Their brothers and sisters and all.

“To-morrow I’ll do it. Ha! what was that?” Said he, for a sound he heard; “Was it fluttering owl or pattering rat, Or bough to the breeze that stirred?”

Oh, it was neither rat nor owl, Giant! nor shaking leaf; Young Harold has heard your scheme so foul, And it may come to grief!

One thing which you ate has escaped your mind,-- Young Harold his guinea-pig dear; And he has crept up to try and find His pet, and he shakes with fear;

He has hid himself in a corner, you know, To listen and look about; And if to the village to-morrow you go, You may find the babes gone out!