A Squirrel, on his hind legs raised,
  Upon a noble Charger gazed,
  Who docile to the spur and rein,
  Went through his menage on the plain;
  Now seeming like the wind to fly,
  Now gracefully curvetting by.
  "Good Sir," the little Tumbler said,
  And with much coolness, scratched his head,
  "In all your swiftness, skill and spirit,
  I do not see there's much of merit,
  For, all you seem so proud to do,
  I can perform, and better too;
  I'm light and nimble, brisk and sprightly,
  I trot, and skip, and canter lightly,
  Backward and forward—here and there,
  Now............