118 THE HORNET. 
What a pair of monstrous shears to carry at 
his head ! 
If wasp or fly come in their gripe, that mo- 
ment they are dead! 
There! bite in two the whip-lash, as we poke 
it at your chin! 
See, how he bites! but it is tough, and again 
he hurries in. 
Ho! ho! we soon shall have the whole of his 
vindictive race, 
With a hurry and a scurry, all flying in our 
face. 
To potter in a Hornet’s nest, is a proverb old 
and good, 
So it’s just as well to take the hint, and re- 
treat into the wood. 
Oh! here behind this hazel-bush we safely may 
look out, 
And see what all the colony of hornets is 
about. 
Why what a furious troop it is, how fierce they 
seem to be, 
As they fly now in the sunshine, now in sha- 
dow of the tree! 
