A man oft flnds his cake is dough, So listen to my tale of woiiífh. Poor Smythekins I It was rather rongb. And put him in a downriirlit liont'U. One day thr town was like a slongh, When Smytbekina tried a fancy boughv Thn iratking was as usual, through The ñtreets were filled with melted wnouxli ■ His latest ñame was driving through The upper part of the avenough. He raiscd hifi hand, but an awkward cough Carne on aa tried hishat to dough. Hekeptitin; but a strong hiccongh. Instead, erked his hand and fingera oiigh. He slipped and fefiïn a muddy frotiffh, His legs ftew out and his hat flew ongh. 'Twas fun for the la1y; forhim 'twas tongïi. And worae than his lady-love's rf'botijfl. For he slid throiiKh the elush like a two-horae plough, And is soie in body and mind even nough. Ho. swelli. take heed. Of your nkill althouifh You are suro, what mav happen tou never knoucrh.