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With the Tiger's tail clenched fast in his fist,

And his own coat-tail grasped fast to assist,

Stands "Tall-and-thin," with "Short-and-stout,"

Each on the top of the Tub to scout,

Tiger within, and they without,

And all in a pretty pickle!

Tiger begins by giving a bound;

The Tub's half turn'd, but the men are found

To have very carefully jump'd to the ground,



At trifles they must not stickle.

It's no use quaking and turning pale,

Pluck and patience must now prevail,

They must keep a hold on the Tiger's tail,

And neither one be fickle!

There they must pull if they pull for weeks,

Straining their stomachs, and bursting their cheeks,

While Tiger alternately roars and squeaks,

Trying to break away from 'em ;

They must keep the Tub turned over his back,

And never let his long tail get slack,

For fear he should win the day from 'em.

Yes! yes! they must hold him tight,

From night till morning! from morn till night!
Mustn't stop to eat! mustn't stop to weep!

Mustn't stop to drink! mustn't stop to sleep!

No cry! no laugh! no rest! no grub!

Till they starve the Tiger under the Tub!

Till the animal dies,

To his own surprise,

With two Bengalese, in a deadly quarrel,

And his tail thrust through the hole of a barrel !

Oh dear! oh dear! it's very clear

They can't live so-but they daren't let go,

Fate for a pitying world to wail,

Starving behind a Tiger's tail!

If Invention be Necessity's Son,

Now let him tell them what's to be done.
What's to be done! ha! I see a grin
Of joy on the face of "Tall-and-thin."
Some new device he has hit in a trice,

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