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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