THERE was a little guinea-pig, Who, being little, was not big; He always walked upon his feet, And never fasted when he eat. When from a place he ran away, He never at that place did stay; And while he ran, as I am told, He ne'er stood still for young or old. He often squeaked and sometimes vi'lent, And when he squeaked he ne'er was silent; Though ne'er instructed by a cat, He knew a mouse was not a rat. One day, as I am certified, He took a whim and fairly died; And as I'm told by men of sense, He never has been living since. | Discover our Poem Explanations and Poet Analyses!Other Poems of Interest...CLARE'S DRAGOONS by THOMAS OSBORNE DAVIS DEATH STANDS ABOVE ME by WALTER SAVAGE LANDOR WILD GEESE by GEORGE LAWRENCE ANDREWS SONNET TO CHARLOTTE M-- by BERNARD BARTON THE FRENCH REVOLUTION by WILLIAM BLAKE GRISELDA: CHAPTER 1 by WILFRID SCAWEN BLUNT DANGEROUS PASSING by ABBIE FARWELL BROWN THE PRAYERS by THOMAS EDWARD BROWN THE UNIVERSITY OF VERMONT SERVICE FLAG - 1517 STARS by DANIEL LEAVENS CADY |