A hawk while soaring on the wing,
O’er a tiny sparkling spring,
Beheld a sleek and beauteous mink,
Was enjoying a bath and drink.
And though the hawk was bent on slaughter
The mink was more at home on water,
And it is strange this curious quarrel
All occurred in a sunk barrel.
In the Township of Nissouri,
There the hawk it came to sorrow,
But it strove often for to sink,
In vain it strove to drown the mink,
But mink it did successful balk,
All the attacks were made by hawk,
The bird was drenched, it could not fly,
And ne’er again it soared on high.