Our Crocodile

Our crocodile, (Psammarathis,
A priest at Ombi, told me this,)
Our crocodile is good and dear,
And eats a damsel once a year.
To me unworthy hath he done
This favour three times -- one by one
Three daughters ate! I praise therefore
And honour him for evermore.
Each Spring there is an exhibition
Of maidens, and a competition.
The baffled fair are blank and spiteful,
The victor's triumph most delightful.
Three months secluded doth she dwell
With the high pontiff in his cell,
Due-worshipping each deity,
And Venus more especially.
Then, on an island in the Nile,
They take her to our crocodile,
He wags his tail, the great jaws stir,
And make a happy end of her.
B a bo! O you brainless child!
(My fourth, sir,) dirty, rude, and wild!
You'll break my heart! you'll ne'er be meet
For any crocodile to eat!