Volume 101 — A TERRIBLE TALE.

Alas! it had of course to be! For weeks I had not left my room, When one fell day there came on me An awful doom. A burly rough, who drank and swore, Without a word—I could not shout— Attacked me brutally, and tore My nails right out. Then, dragging me out to the air— No well-conducted conscience pricked him— He mercilessly beat me there, His helpless victim. With cruel zest he beat me well, He beat me till in parts I grew— I shudder as the tale I tell— All black and blue. But what on earth he was about, I could not guess, do what I would; But when at length he cleaned me out I understood. Yet do not shed a tear, because You've heard my story told in metre, For I'm a Carpet, and he was A Carpet-Beater.