,
His very tender feet.

_Chorus--_

"Oh! my poor tender feet!
Of what use are England's laws,
Unless they protect my claws
And keep me warm in the street?
Nothing so young and fair,
Ever sniffed Fleet Street air,
Ever sang like the Dove--
And--All that I ask is love."

At this point the Griffin was so overcome by his own performance that
he burst into tears; and despite the excessive hilarity of every one
present, to say nothing of Carry-on-Merry, who was rolling upon the
floor in his mirth, the Griffin continued to sob, and from time to time
wiped away the big tears that rolled down his cheeks with the fur upon
the Lord Mayor's mantle that he wore.

"It always affects me," sobbed the Griffin.

"Yes," answered the Lion, "it has affected all of us strangely."

"Nearly been the death of me," gulped Carry-on-Merry.

"I think I will go home now," said the Griffin, as he surreptitiously
wiped away the last tears and prepared to depart.

"Oh, don't think of leaving us yet," said the Lion.

"Very well," sniffed the Griffin; "perhaps I may be asked to sing
again."

"Not if I know it," whispered the Lion in an undertone; "one
performance of that nature is quite sufficient for one evening."

At this moment Carry-on-Merry announced that the dogs, wishing to
return thanks for the general pleasantness of the party, and being
unable to sing themselves, had deputed one of their number, a most
intelligent bob-tail sheep-dog, to compose an ode.

This particular dog, it was thought, had some claims as a poet, since
he was a lineal descendant of the canine companion who invariably
accompanied Robert Burns in all his wanderings.

The three laughing little lions would now sing the ode the bob-tailed
sheep-dog had composed, with the general permission of the company.

"Let us hear it," said the Lion.

"Oh! fancy singing after me," remarked the Griffin.

"Yes," agreed the Lion, "it shows great courage."

Gamble, Grin, and Grub arranged themselves in order, and Gamble
commenced--

"Cross Chelsea Bridge, by Chelsea town
There is a place called Battersea.
The very name to Christian dog's
Will make them shudder fearfully."

Here Grin took up the solo.

"A place where gloomy prison doors
Do shut up homeless dogs
If ever they get lost, or stray
During the London fogs."

Grub hereupon came forward.

"When once inside that citadel