A Rabbit Story

Our friend, Mr. Romley,
He told the tale homley,
And yet full of fun,
How the Rabbits did run,
In numbers a score,
All around his door.
They were red, black and white,
Their play folks did delight;
But they got small by degrees,
For the cats did them seise⁠—
All but one big black Rabbit,
He got into the habit
Under ground he would dive⁠—
He long time did survive,
’Till owner, wanting fat pot,
He this great beast then shot.
When police heard the gun,
Full quickly he did run,
In a furious rage;
But his wrath did as‑uage
When he got a quarter
Of the last martyr.

Where this text comes from

First published in Musings on the Banks of Canadian Thames (1884). First located printing is this volume; an earlier periodical printing has not been established. [1]

Structure read from the source's markup; the words have not been compared against a page scan. Last checked 2026-08-20.

Taken from Standard Ebooks, standardebooks/james-mcintyre_poetry, poetry.xhtml. Rights: public domain (SE dedication; underlying text pre-1931).

Earlier sources (3)

This poem as JSON or plain text. Line anchors #L1–#L22.

Cite this poem

James McIntyre (1828?–1906). “A Rabbit Story.” First published in Musings on the Banks of Canadian Thames (1884). Text: Poem Index, https://poemindex.org/james-mcintyre/a-rabbit-story/. Append #L14 to cite line 14, or #L4-L9 for lines 4–9.

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