Because, you must know, that that morning, The Cook had cut off their heads, And thrown them away in the yard. The Hen would have prank'd up her feathers, But plucking had sadly deform'd her; And for want of them she would have shiver'd with cold, If the roasting she had had not warm'd her. And the Cock felt exceedingly queer; He thought it a very odd thing That his head and his voice were he did not know where, And his gizzard tuck'd under his wing. The gizzard got into its place, The heads saw their way to the bodies, And in flew the feathers, like snow in a shower, way; For they all became white on the And the Cock and the Hen in a trice were refledged, And then who so happy as they ! Cluck! cluck! cried the Hen right merrily then, Full glad was he to hear again THE LEGEND. PART III. "A MIRACLE!" a miracle!" The people shouted, as they might well, When the news went through the town; And every child and woman and man Took up the cry, and away they ran To see Pierre taken down. They made a famous procession; Santiago's Image, large as life, Went first with banners and drum and fife ; And next, as was most meet, The twice-born Cock and Hen were borne Along the thronging street. Perch'd on a cross-pole hoisted high, And because they very well knew for why They were carried in such solemnity, And saw the Saint and his banners before 'em, They behaved with the greatest propriety, And most correct decorum. The Knife, which had cut off their heads that morn, Still red with their innocent blood, was borne, The scullion boy he carried it; And the Skewers also made a part of the show, With which they were truss'd for the spit. The Cook in triumph bore that Spit And the Dish was display'd wherein they were laid With eager faith the crowd prest round; There was a scramble of women and men For who should dip a finger-tip In the blessed Gravy then, Next went the Alcayde, beating his breast, Have mercy on me a sinner!" And lifting oftentimes his hands "Orate pro nobis !" devoutly he cried, The Father and Mother were last in the train; And extoll'd, with tears of gratitude, So, with all honours that might be, |