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 never stood still for young or old.
He often squeaked and sometimes vi’lent,
And when he squeaked he never was silent.
Though never 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.
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