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Three Jackalls were a prawling sent
It is supposed with ill intent,
At least to make a prey:
On any thing they saw was good;
So dashing furious in a wood,
They seiz’d without delay,

An Orange Tree well hung with fruit,
It apt the Lion’s taste to suit,
By Jackalls forced away.
The owner of the tree declares,
He’ll strip the Lion of his ears,
Or make him sharply pay.

So to it furiously they went,
He’ll make the Lion soon repent,
For seizing others store.
He crav’d for mercy night and day;
The Owner of the fruit won’t stay!
But will him sadly gore.

Sharp pains ran down his aching side,
The Lion on his knees loud cried,
I will do so no more.
The orange man declar’d with glee,
Your minion sha’nt have liberty
To enter here no more.

Ne’er shall you have the power to take
My fruit away for hunger sake,
But I will have a change;
My tale of woe none can deny,
You know your master dwells on high,
He soon will stop your range.

He wears a fur more grand to view,
And is more merciful than you,
Your arrogance he’ll stop;
He’ll quickly with a little chain,
Your nightly prowlings soon restrain;
And your ambition lop.

He was allowed no more to stray,
With hungry Jackalls night or day;
Where Orange trees are seen.
It serv’d him right to stop his power,
Or he would each succeeding hour,
Pluck Oranges too green.

Besides there is a law that’s known,
We should take nothing but our own,
From either beast or man.
Tho’ power is given to us here,
We should the little lambs revere,
And serve them if we can.

I hope this will a warning prove,
To other Lions in the grove,
Who may hereafter stray:
By power or order to a place,
And not incur the like disgrace,
We witness’d t’other day.

The low bred minions seek to bind,
The smaller ones of gentler kind,
But in this happy Isle;
A savage beast is laid aside,
For every Reptile to deride,
Or hourly to revile.